Chasing Hope
by River's Dream
Summary: Alone, injured, and on the run. Who is this stranger and what is his story
1. Chapter 1

*Disclaimer* - I sadly still do not own Stargate, its character's, or let's be honest anything. I am merely borrowing the characters for entertainment and will return them when I am finished.

A.N. Special thanks to XX-Samantha –XX for agreeing to be beta on this story, wherever it may lead

The wounded man was a sight to behold. Dressed only in hospital scrubs, pilfered from his former caregivers, he hobbled quickly down an abandoned alleyway, mercilessly pounded by the driving, sleet-like rain. Favouring his left side, he struggled along with a speed that contrasted his weakened state, using the towering walls surrounded him as a guide. Continually moving himself forward and distancing the unseen enemies who pursued him.

In a corner of his fractured mind, experience told him that there was another danger, far more insidious than his faceless enemies, lurking, gaining footholds against the weakened man. His blue tinged lips, shaking body, and sluggish limbs all told the signs. In a brief moment of clarity he realised he needed shelter, now. Or everything he had been through was for nothing, he would have failed.

On the other hand all he needed to do was sit down and it could all be over. He would be free, safe, warm, and best of all he could be with her.

"No"

He didn't even realise the words, gravely and rough as they were, had left his mouth. To give up meant dishonouring the dead, ignoring his duty, giving up meant leaving people behind. With renewed energy, the injured man stumbled forward, crashing into the nearest wall as dizziness overwhelmed him. Pushing himself up with his good arm, the man noticed an old doorway out of the corner of his eye. On steadily failing legs he haltingly made his way over and cautiously looked in.

The room was dark, untouched in this generation. There was broken furniture and scattered remnants strewn across the floor, as though the last inhabitant had waited until the very last moment to pack and then found themselves with only seconds to gather the material possessions of their lives. The man barely noticed. What he did notice though; was the slight heat generated by the conduits running through the room, the solid roof and walls keeping out the wind and rain, and the dirty tapestries on the walls which he could pull down to help warm his near frozen body. Shelter and heat meant he still had a fighting chance.

With a weary, shivering sigh the man grabbed the old hangings, wrapped them around his shoulders, and collapsed into the corner with pain filled exhaustion, losing himself to the nightmares which had become his reality.


	2. Chapter 2

*Standard disclaimers still apply, I do not own Stargate, this is meant for entertainment*

Thanks again to Sam for keeping me focused and chasing away the bunnies. Darn bunnies, why do they have to look so cute, always inviting me down their rabbit trails.

And now back to our story.

"What do you mean he's gone? You mean to tell me that an entire team of voodoo specialists couldn't keep an eye on one half-dead Colonel!" Dr. Rodney McKay stood in marked disbelief, gazing once again at the empty, rumpled sheets which covered the lonely hospital bed, as though by simply staring Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard would somehow magically reappear. "I mean we just got him back from who knows what sort of hellish experience and now he's gone again." Rodney's voice dropped in volume and tone "He's going to be alright? Isn't he Carson?"

An equally distraught, though far less vocal, Dr. Carson Beckett sat slumped at his desk, looking over his notes with Dr. Weir, trying desperately to understand how things had unravelled so quickly for his most frequent patient. Although, to be fair, this latest twist was only the most recent development in SGA-1's current saga. If Carson wanted to be technical, the most recent fiasco had begun a week earlier with SGA-1's ill-fated mission to P7R-3J6.

What was it with that team and "simple missions"?

Carson wearily turned in his chair and made eye contact with Rodney whose responses were thankfully being soothed by Teyla. Carson gave a small, silent shout of thanks for the Athosian woman's unflappable presence and inherent knack for calmly her high-strung team mate down in these rather frequent, high-stress situations.

"My so-called voodoo specialists, as you insist on calling them, did their best Rodney. We couldna risk putting him in restraints. Between his history, our lack of information regarding just what the bloody hell happened to him on the planet, and the fact that the man was and still is delusional . . . the potential risk of adding to his mental trauma just didna seem worth it. I couldna do it to the lad, not when he was in such obvious distress. I had me best staff watching him. Nobody expected SGA-12 to come staggering in at 3am after encounter a forest fire on whatever wretched planet they happened to have been stuck exploring. Everyone feels terrible as it is without you laying more blame. There just simply wasn't enough manpower" Carson dropped his head and slumped back into his chair, all energy seemingly fleeing his body.

"And why wasn't there enough manpower? Hmm? Answer me that Carson. We all know Sheppard has 'unique' abilities, you should have planned for every contingency, every possibility. You should have been ready!"

"Now listen here, I spent the better part of a day patching up what those monsters left of our Colonel back into one piece, not to mention the next twelve hours sitting by his bedside watching his vitals and keeping him stabilized . Believe it or not Meredith Rodney McKay, even we doctors need to get some real sleep, in a real bed, on occasion, we canae all live on coffee alone. Do ye not think I've been sitting here reliving every bloody decision I made last night, can ye not pull yourself out of yer own worry long enough to realise that others may blame already themselves!"

Rodney jumped back, eyes widening "I . . . I didn't realise Carson. I didn't mean. It's just, I -"

"I believe what Rodney is attempting to say, Doctor, is that we know you did your best with the information you possessed at the time. We know that you would go to great lengths to protect those under your care and never intentionally cause them harm. However, now, we must _all_ put aside our guilt and blame and focus on finding John. He is alone, injured, and delusional in Atlantis, an area which John could better navigate than half of the personnel while sleeping." Teyla re-examined the city schematics Rodney had brought with him.

"And it's rainin', hard. Takes a lot of a man who hasn't been recently tortured" Ronon added, entering the room and shaking the water droplets out of his hair.

"That is most disconcerting news Ronon." Teyla slumped at Ronon's arrival.

"Aye lass, you could say that again, John's in no physical condition to be surviving that monsoon for very long. Not to mention the fact that no one with his current mental or emotional state should be left alone for any great length of time."

"I take it you were unsuccessful in your quest to locate John in the immediate vicinity?"

"Lorne's still got teams looking in cubbyholes and such, brains looking at scanners but we found evidence of someone heading towards the southern city core."

"Of course, even delirious Sheppard would still make this as difficult as possible."

Teyla jumped back, distancing herself from Rodney "Are implying that John would do this on purpose?"

"Alright everyone settle down. As Teyla has already said, sitting around laying blame, on ourselves or others, will do no one any good." Elizabeth's voice was firm from the corner where she was going over the scant details of John's escape "Now, Carson, you are most familiar with John's status. What do we need to tell the search teams so they can best help John once he is located?"

Carson's shoulders straightened as he looked Elizabeth straight in the eye "Right you are lass, I assume SGA-1 will coordinate with Major Lorne's team to recover their leader?" Looking over and receiving visible confirmation he continued, "All right then, obviously he'll need medical attention as soon as possible. However, while I'm en route, basic survival training comes into play: get him dry, out of the elements if he's exposed, keep him warm, check for any major injuries, if he's hypothermic the cold may have actually slowed any bleeding, proving to be a godsend rather than the usual detriment."

"And I'll work to reconnect transporters in the south sector, Carson. That way once Sheppard's found we can have you to him in five minutes or less"

"Thank ye Rodney, that could make a world of difference in John's survival and recovery."

"Alright Carson, we will inform the teams and -"

"Not quite lass, there's one more key element I'm afraid we need to cover. John may not actually recognize you or the members of the search teams. He'll have to be approached with extreme caution, and depending on his status, you may have to earn his trust before he allows you to aid him."

"Carson" Elizabeth's tone held a hint of an unidentifiable emotion "Is there something you haven't been telling us?"

"Aye, normally I wouldna say anything, due to patient privileges and such. Considering John's training though, to remain quiet would mean putting all of ye in unnecessary danger and potentially escalating an already delicate situation. When I was sitting with the lad, after his surgery and such, he would begin to mumble whenever he reached a semi-conscious state. He seems to believe he's either in Afghanistan, P7R-3J6, or some hellish combination of the two."

Ronon and Teyla both scanned their Milky Way counterparts at Carson declaration. Although, Teyla had heard grumblings about Afghanistan during her time in Atlantis, few expedition members had proven willing to actually discuss this part of their home world. Ronan, for his part, had heard even less. Rodney, much as he hated it, understood Carson's implications far too well.

Recognizing the severity of the situation, Rodney straightened himself up and quietly walked to the door, motioning for Teyla and Ronon to follow. Pausing in the doorway, Rodney turned looked Carson in the eye, and with solemnity spoke "I'm sorry for blaming you earlier Carson, we'll let you know the minute we find him"

With that Rodney led the rest of SGA-1 out the door with a determination born of quiet dignity and concerned worry, united in their quest to bring John safely home.


	3. Chapter 3

*Disclaimer – see previous chapters, this is only for entertainment*

Upon leaving the infirmary, Rodney felt he that had aged a decade in the past thirty minutes. Sheppard was his best friend, their team leader, Atlantis' military CO; he shouldn't be off fighting for his life every other week. Rodney just wasn't built for handling this level of stress on a regular basis. Squaring his shoulders, Rodney began to head toward the nearest transporter, only to find himself both annoyed and surprised when his progress was abruptly halted.

"Dr. McKay?" It was Teyla's hand stretched upon his shoulder, delaying him, allowing precious seconds to tick away while John was who knows where. Yet there was a regretful tone to her stance, one that equalled McKay's own impatience, his own fear, one which McKay chose to ignore.

"What! You do realise that every second we waste standing around talking is another second that Sheppard is off rushing headlong towards his death . . . again. I need to get up to the control room so I can fix those transporters and begin narrowing down a proper sensory search grid for any solitary and weakened life signs in the southern sector. I cannot afford to stand around chatting over tea and crumpets in the hallways! You two should be off joining the search. Why aren't you joining the search? Why are we standing around here? What kind of friends are we?"

Teyla bit her lip and drew in a breath, "Ronon and I are aware of the situation's severity, Doctor. However, we also find ourselves battling a disadvantage which could directly impact our ability to provide proper assistance to John upon his retrieval."

"A disadvantage regarding Sheppard and you think I can help?"

"Yes Rodney. Doctor Beckett mentioned that John was suffering from delusions, as a complication from the injuries he received on P&R-3J6. While Ronon and I are familiar with

the nature and significance of John's most recent wounds, due to our presence during the rescue mission," Teyla could not repress the shiver that ran through her as she remembered the dire circumstances in which they had located John days earlier "and Dr. Beckett's subsequent reports, neither one of us could be considered . . . informed . . . regarding the importance of Afghanistan or its relation to John's past. The topic is one which remains relatively closed among your people.

Realization regarding his teammates' vastly divergent histories once again hit Rodney full force. If it weren't for the severity of the times, he would have found himself laughing at the fact he considered working with honest to goodness aliens, a forgettable aspect of daily life. Snapped back to reality by Teyla's querying face and Ronon's appraising stare, Rodney was once again shocked to find himself at a loss for words.

"Oh. Umm, well just how on Earth am I supposed to give you the Coles notes of Middle Eastern politics and their personal effects on one Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard, in five minutes or less?"

"We're not on earth." Ronon helpfully pointed out, he really didn't understand most of the Terran's odder idioms, honestly, what did being on Earth have to do with helping Sheppard?

"Could you not try Rodney, for John's sake?"

"For John," Rodney softly echoed. "Well, as I'm sure you've both assessed during your time with the expedition, we Terrans aren't exactly the most peaceful of people, unfortunately, or especially, when it comes to our neighbours. I mean we try hard, I think, I mean, I hope we do but to be perfectly honest, that region seems to be at war more often than it's not."

"Know planets like that here" Ronon grunted remembering his runner days.

"Yes, well, the latest organized efforts were organized at the start of the current decade. We've sent thousands of men and women comprising a coalition force, representing multiple allied countries, overseas after a deadly attack on Sheppard's homeland. It shook them and their allies badly, destruction like that, it just seemed beyond the imagination," Rodney began to trail remembering the day that had officially changed life for so many. "As a member of the Air Force and possessing an unnaturally honed death wish, Sheppard pushed to join the forces overseas himself and quickly did."

Rodney paused, eyebrows drawn in concentration, comprehension dawning on his face "You know, it's not all that surprising that Sheppard's confusing the two experiences when you look at the available facts. I mean it's disturbing that his brain would focus on the similarities and the fact that he's had to endure two similar events, one is one too many in my own way of thinking, but it's not that far outside the realm of the expected."

"What makes you say that Rodney?"

"The Middle East isn't exactly one of Earth's more forgiving environments. It's a big, hot, dry, desert. Considering the geographically similarities on P7R-3J6, it isn't that surprising that Sheppard would connect the two location in his head, even if he wasn't consciously aware that he was making such connections."

"Yes the planet was quite the unique experience. I have never seen that much sand nor witnessed such extreme temperature variations."

"The similarities were startling enough that even I made the association and I certainly don't have Sheppard's travel experience. To be honest, it was probably close enough to create a fair amount of discomfort for the man, not that our resident fly boy would have shared such pertinent information with his teammates."

"Are you certain Rodney, I only mean, John did not appear to be any more uncomfortable or on any higher alert that he does on any regular mission. We even found him playing with some local children during a lull in negotiations."

"Oh yeah, I'm sure Mr. Macho would never admit it but he actually loves the little ankle-biters, thinks they're spirited or something. Can you believe it? I think he just enjoys the chance to interact with people sharing a common level of maturity. The truth of the matter is, Sheppard would never be vengeful or hold a grudge against someone based solely on their parentage or race, well, if you discount the wraith or the goa'uld , but that's an entirely different situation. Even if it brought up uncomfortable associations, John would ignore his discomfort for the good of the mission."

"Personally, I think that it's the similarities after our departure that cemented his delusions. Sheppard's time in Afghanistan didn't exactly end well: mission went south, people died, and Sheppard was taken prisoner by people who aren't exactly recognized for their strict adherence to the Geneva Convention."

"What is this Geneva Convention you mentioned Rodney and how do you know that John was taken prisoner during his mission. That does not seem like information he would willingly offer, even among his friends."

"McKay hacked his file."

"Rodney!"

"How did you find ou -? I mean let's stay focused on the situation at hand. As for your question Teyla, the Geneva Convention is a series of treaties outlining the humane treatment of prisoners and civilians during times of war on Earth. Sheppard had the misfortune of being held by a group which did not follow the Convention's directives. Who knows how many of the man's quirks were shaped during those three weeks."

"So, as a result of John's injuries, his brain may be connecting the two experiences due to their similarities in physical similarities, and" Teyla took a steadying breathe "the severity of what he experienced during the comparative captivities?"

"That's what Carson is theorizing and to be honest I can't find a flaw in his postulations as of yet."

"So, Sheppard still thinks he's a prisoner in hostile territory then. Fun."

"Thank you Rodney, we will not take up any more of your time, this information is most helpful in our quest to aid John."

"Of course, no problem. Honestly, we should have remembered that you would naturally possess gaps in your information and remedied the situation. I just kind of forget that you're from another galaxy sometimes, you're so normal"

Teyla raised an eyebrow at Rodney's comment, smirking in contrast to the tense atmosphere.

"I mean . . .oh no, not that you'd be weird growing up in a different galaxy . . . I mean we can be just as weird on Earth. Honest, umm, and by "just as" I don't mean to imply that you are, it's just -"

"Is there a problem here? I thought you'd already be in the control room Rodney" Elizabeth, unnoticed by the trio, had completed her talk with Carson and entered the hallway, walking directly into the trio's conversation.

"Elizabeth, we have just been going over additional, pertinent information regarding the current rescue mission. Teyla and Ronon were just leaving to begin their own search."

"That is correct Dr. Weir, Rodney you will inform us when you have the sensors reconfigured?"

"Of course Teyla, keep me posted on the search? More information means tighter search parameters and hopefully a shorter search."

"Understood Dr. McKay. Ronon?" The two quickly turned and headed south, Teyla fastening her hood and Ronon slipping on a rain poncho before disappearing into the torrent of rain.

"Would you mind some company on the way upstairs Elizabeth?"

"I would love some Rodney" Quietly and sombrely, the two walked onward, leaving the corridor abandoned in their wake.

**Meanwhile in the Southern Sector:**

Cold. So cold.

Pain. In, out, ever breathe a struggle against the overwhelming pain.

Fear. Where was he? Who was after him? Why did he hurt so much?

John groaned as he subconsciously huddled into himself, trying to trap more of the heat his body craved, and was struggling to produce. He quickly regretted the slight movement as his newly aggravated injuries screamed at the slight motions.

Injuries, pain, he was injured, badly by the feel of things. What had he gotten himself into this time? Why did he always have to be the one angering the locals or having cultural "miscommunications"?

Flashes of images, memories, began to assault his conscious mind

The flash of a whip . . .

Hunger . . .

Mind numbing cold . . .

Fists pummelling him, restraining him . . .

Darkness . . .

Screams, whimpers, crying . . .

She had been crying, John remembered the panic, heart-wrenching sobs, and it was all because of him. Where had she gone? John fought the rising pain and began scanning the room in which he had hidden. It was dark but empty, just scattered remains, no room for anyone to hide. He was alone and confused. The structure looked Lantean but if he was here she would be too, anything else meant failure. He couldn't fail, he had promised, wouldn't leave her, not again, he couldn't face himself if he had failed. Where was she?

"Mansa?"

Damn, why wouldn't his mouth work right? He sounded like he was drunk. There was no way she would be able to understand, let alone hear him, if she had hidden nearby like he had ordered he in case of an emergency and what was that awful noise?

Rain?

Well that explains why he was colder than normal; John took in his sodden clothes and the dirty tapestries. How had he gotten topside though? At least he had found shelter and the tapestries were fighting off further chill. John froze, what if she was outside?

"Manda? Are you there? Com'on answer me . . . please?"

With growing desperation, John attempted to force his battered body to rise and begin a more thorough search. After collapsing three times, John released his efforts were in vain, he was stranded, at least temporarily. John fought off the urge to cry. Soldiers didn't have the luxury of crying in enemy territory, he had to pull himself together, he had to find Amanda.

"I'm over here John"

"What?" John's head whipped around at the sound of the voice "Oh great! As is I wasn't already screwed enough, now I get to be really screwed," John groaned into the dirty tapestries wrapped around him.

"You asked for me and I came. Why would me doing as you asked make you think you're screwed John?"

"Let's see here. I've been arrested, sentenced, and condemned on an enemy planet for crimes I didn't do. I'm still in enemy territory. I'm wounded, probably severely wounded, and at risk from exposure and now, just to make my day even better, I'm hallucinating the presence of my dead mother to keep me company. Did I miss anything?"

"Well, at least you know I'm a hallucination. That's a positive . . . I think. I've missed you my precious baby boy." Hallucination or not, John blushed at the familiar nickname his mind had decided to dredge up.

"If you weren't looking for me who were you calling for Johnny?"

"You're a figment of my own consciousness, I thought you would already know, besides, much as I miss you, I don't have time for this. I need to get back 'Lantis . . . need team, help. Have to find 'Manda, made her a promise . . ." John's voice began to trail off as his body and mind began to succumb to the pleasant oblivion of unconsciousness.

"No . . .have . . . stay awake . . . find . . . I'm so sorry."

With that John gave into the unavoidable blackness, oblivious to his surroundings once more.

A.N. Thanks to Sam for keeping me on track and providing feedback and thanks to all who have reviewed and urged me forward. You people are amazing. Stay tuned for chapter four, we're heading for some flashbacks.


	4. Chapter 4

*Disclaimer – see chapter one*

A.N. – Thanks once again to Samantha for keeping me on track as Beta, and thanks to all who have reviewed and messaged me, you guys keep this story going. This story is definitely forming as I go. I can the destination in my head but your comments are invaluable. Thanks for reading :D

Ten days earlier:

Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard was not a happy man. Sliding his shades off his head and onto his face, he stepped off the dais, and began to scout the surrounding landscape. Ten steps behind him, McKay was loudly grumbling about the hazards of dehydration, heat stroke and skin cancer as he scrambled through his pack looking for supplies.

A miniscule part of John understood Rodney's fears, at least the first two. He had lived in a similar climate before and was all too aware of the many ways a man could easily die from carelessness. Contrary to their blazing surroundings, John suddenly found himself wrestling with cold shudders for control of his body as long suppressed memories threatened to surface yet again.

They were standing in a desert. A city stood to the west and John estimated it to be a twenty minute hike, if they could corral Rodney. Continuing his survey, John spotted various plants struggling to survive in the sun and the occasional dry riverbed which pointed towards a rainy season. Something the region had obviously not experienced in recent weeks. What really stood out for John, though, were the rocks. Strewn as far as the eye could see, were rocks of every shape and size, reflecting the suns harsh rays and choking out the local fauna. John hated hot deserts. In fact, after receiving their first Intel on the planet through one of the Athosian traders, Sheppard had originally scheduled Major Lone and SGA-2 to make initial contact. However, the best laid plans in Atlantis . . . .

SGA-2 had been one of the teams entrusted with exploring the latest series of addresses retrieved from the Lantean computers. Recent events had revealed the cities need for a new beta site as well as potential relocation planets for allies displaced in Wraith occupations. After a long day of tramping through rough terrain, fighting off alien bugs, and dodging sudden spring storms Major Lorne and his team were more than ready to call it a day.

Forcing a completely enthralled Dr. Parrish to wrap up his tests and pack his equipment, Coughlin and Reed had eagerly taken point, Lorne had taken their six, while Dr. Parrish randomly wandered in between, frantically taking last minute samples on their trek home. Everything would have been fine; everything should have been fine, until Dr. Parrish, once again, became distracted. While Parrish was tracking a particularly interesting example of the local fauna, he failed to notice that Coughlin and Reed had simultaneously located a large, lime green puddle of sludge blocking their current path. Dr. Parrish had subsequently and unceremoniously slammed into the stationary pair, resulting in all three finding themselves waist deep in lime green sludge.

Making matters worse, Major Lorne, while attempting to rescue his wayward team had ended up equally drenched. Afterwards, he would claim the ground had given way, his team however, reported that it, most likely, had more to do with his uncontrollable laughter at their predicament. By the time the weary group made it back to Atlantis, they were cold, covered in partially hardened green sludge, and looking like the rejected half-siblings of the swamp thing.

On a normal base: a shower, a meal, and the team should have been good to go. Should have been, being the operative phrase. Much to SGA-2's dismay, it turned out the lime green sludge, which they had found themselves in, had a milder Earth equivalent . . . Poison Oak. Sadly, SGA-2 now found themselves confined to Carson's infirmary for a minimum of four days while their rather uncomfortable and contagious rashes were treated. All things considered, John would have preferred the infirmary.

"Colonel, are you almost ready to begin? I believe Rodney may have finally reassembled his gear." Teyla's mouth quirked into her usual smile, while she examined John's face, she couldn't be sure, but something seemed slightly off in her usually laid back leader. Perhaps, her eyes were merely playing tricks?

"Of course I'm ready." John replied with a practiced ease. "Just waiting for you slow pokes to get your gear together."

"Well, excuse me Colonel. Not all of us are as lucky as you and can merely grab a gun and call themselves prepared. Some of us have valuable and extremely delicate equipment requiring specialized care." McKay huffed as he readjusted his pack, nose in the air.

"And just how much of this junk do you think we're actually going to need on an initial meet and greet with the local government, Rodney?"

"It never hurts to be prepared for any eventuality."

"Gentlemen, please? Perhaps, we should continue this discussion later? Halling was quite specific when it came to his warnings regarding the noonday sun on this world. He highly suggested that we be under cover when the sun hits its zenith."

"Smart Contact." Ronon didn't bother looking up, as he grabbed McKay's last bag.

"Be careful with that! That bag is filled with highly fragile equipment you big -."

"McKay" Teyla glanced reprovingly.

"I was just . . . alright I'm being quiet now." McKay's faced scrunched in frustration as he quieted under Teyla's stare.

With that, the team slowly and silently began making their way down the stony path towards their destination.

The city, which Teyla informed them was named Calaius, was undeniably impressive. Possessing thick stone walls with guards patrolling every 12 feet, the city was completely encircled, so that only the tips of the tallest building could be seen by outside eyes. Entering into the city was an equally startling experience. It was just like stepping back in time. Listening carefully John could hear McKay muttering about street rats and Agrabah. Biting back a smirk, John had to agree. The city was teeming: people, building, shop stalls abounding, signs of life were everywhere, assaulting and overwhelming the senses. Everywhere showed signs of flourishing, except in the eyes of the people.

No matter where John looked, whether it was the shopkeeper peddling cloth on his left, or the mother with her young daughter perched on her hip and sucking her thumb on his right, they all wore the marks of one weighed down by secrets and fear. John felt himself tense as he looked back, once again, into the young girl's eyes.

She could be no more than 18 months old with beautiful brown ringlets and startling brown eyes. She sat patiently in her mother's arms, sucking her thumb, and watching the world around her while her mother did the weekly shopping, burying her head in her mother's shoulder whenever anyone made eye contact. The gesture should have been cute, a child at play, and John saw Teyla smile slightly as she spotted the girl's actions. John, however, knew better. In her eyes, John saw a fear and a pain that many adults would never experience.

John's breath hitched as his mind unwillingly flashed back to another nameless little girl he had known, with similar eyes and dark ringlets. He remembered a child running around, filling the air with laugher. He remembered grown men bending over backwards to make the princess laugh. He remembered her mother smiling serenely as she cleaned, watching her daughter, grateful for the chance to provide a better life. He remembered the fear when the realised she had wandered off, when they heard the explosion, when they – John broke from the memory. This place was starting to get to him.

Taking a steadying breathe John tore his eyes from the little girl and marched forward with renewed focus.

Ronon, too, was finding himself growing more and more uncomfortable as the mission progressed. Scanning Sheppard, he saw the leader appeared no more on edge than usual, but the Satedan was quickly learning not to judge the Terran Colonel by appearance alone. Often when their leader appeared the most care free was when he was the most dangerous, and the Colonel seemed to thrive on being underestimated.

Still, Ronon wished there was time for him to actually speak with the man and gain his opinions on their current situation. Although he saw no signs of betrayal, the people were beginning to unnerve him. Halling had assured them that this planet was virtually untouched by the wraith. Yet, the entire population wandered around in a daze he had only ever witnessed in survivors of the worst cullings. Ronon sighed wearily; this was going to be a long mission. Even with these thoughts and distractions, the team found themselves slowly progressing through the narrow, winding streets towards the ever looming palace. None of them, however, were prepared for the sight that awaited them on the city's edge. Even Rodney, who had been alternately muttering about health concern in desert climates and the sanitation hazards of overcrowding, found himself speechless at the startling contrast, now laid out at his feet.

While Calaius had been dark, dank, and filled with a population struggling to survive, anyone could see, even from a distance, that the palace was spacious, opulent, and wasteful to extremes.

The most disturbing facet, though, was a half-mile wide "no man's land" which separated the city from the palace grounds. With the exception of the path on which they were currently standing, all John could see in the barren strip were occasional huddles of scattered, woefully built tents, cobbled together out of scraps and painfully exposed to the elements.

Silently continuing forward, John could suddenly make out small, painfully thin, faces watching him, warily, from the hovels doors and various unfilled cracks. John found himself fighting back a wave of nausea. Here, in the middle of this little patch of hell, were a group of children!

As John pondered who could possibly condemn a group of children to such an existence he noticed a slight flash of movement in one of the central huts. There in the doorway, now stood a small boy, bravely standing while others obviously cowered behind him. John briefly smiled at the boy's fierce protectiveness and loyalty to whoever hid behind him, until, John found himself frozen as he actually began to take in the boy's appearance.

For all outward appearances, the boy seemed to be approximately 8 years old, although with the obvious malnutrition, John realised his guess would always remain simply that. Even from the road, John could easily see the boy's ribs sticking out on his thin frame, his stomach bloated in hunger, supported by spindle like legs, but, it was the eyes, once again, that haunted John. The eyes were that of an old man's, lifeless and without hope. John had seen eyes like that before and shuddered at the comparisons.

The first time John had ever witnessed such brokenness had been when he was 16. Desperate to get out of the chaos of his parents house, John had followed a friend to camp, working as a cabin counsellor for the summer. Between his campers, the high impact nature of his job, the cute female nurse, and the chance to be outdoors it was a perfect fit for an active teen, until July. In July they had hosted a group of Children's Aid kids. These were the ones who had been pulled from their homes, who had faced a life of neglect, abuse, and hardship. John had spent the week watching these kids take their first steps towards healing and had never felt so completely inadequate in his life.

He saw those eyes again when he volunteered at the local shelter and witnessed young children coming in with their battered parent. He saw those eyes after basic training when he visited friends in the hospital. He saw those eyes in Afghanistan. Unable to help it, John began to step off the path towards the cluster of tents when a group of soldiers exited the palace gates, calling out to them as they came.

"Gate walkers! Friends. On behalf of our wonderful King we bid you greeting. Welcome to our humble city." John froze mid-step, struck by the guard's sudden, uncanny resemblance to a used-car dealer. "Come, come. You must be weary from your journey; the King has prepared a great feast in honour of your arrival. Besides the midday is almost upon us, come let us go indoors."

"What about these children, surely they should not be left out in the midday sun?"

The guard's lip curled and his nostrils flared as he glanced over towards the shacks "The matter is . . . complicated, as an outsider you could not understand. Some things are deeper than they appear, are they not? Or is everything straightforward and impossible to misinterpret on your home world?"

"Of course not, we were merely curious due to the significance of _all_ children within our own society. It is not often we encounter social structures similar to yours, the question was merely the natural result of our confusion." Teyla said soothingly.

The guard continued to sneer at Sheppard whose eyes had yet to leave the young boy in the doorway and though, still defiant, was obviously fearful of the men before him.

"The king is waiting, if you still wish to trade you will follow me."

John tore his eyes from the boy and the team slowly followed the guards through the gates. At first John almost wondered if they had stepped into another world. Immediately through the gates lay a paved, covered garden path leading up to the main palace. The path roof was supported by 20 foot marble-like columns, gleaming in the sunlight, and led out to lush gardens on either side. The gardens, too, were spectacular. Filled with unusual plants, manmade ponds and streams, and an exotic zoo all connected by the same delicate pathway leading up to the equally impressive main palace. John once more felt the urge to puke as he recalled the fearful faces and hungry eyes of the people they had encountered on their journey, struggling to survive while their monarch wasted their countries wealth of frivolities.

"Ah you must be the gate travellers, welcome to my world." The entire team whipped around towards the new voice. There, before them, stood the king and he was everything Sheppard had feared. Tall with long, dark hair and aristocratic features, John imagined that the man before him would easily have had his choice of women, regardless of the status life had bestowed on him. John, however, was drawn to the more subtle features: cold, calculating eyes that followed every detail, scarred hands unafraid of getting dirty, a muscled physique that revealed hours of disciplined training, capped by a sneer of indifference revealing his lack of concern for all which did not directly affect him. Here was a man who would kill without mercy and lose no sleep over the action.

The King, smiling, continued "Please come, you must join me inside for the midday feast; it is far too hot for people like us to stand around outside like mere commoners."

John was fighting back a sharp retort when Teyla, sensing something stirring within her leader, intervened. Stepping forward with a diplomatic smile "We'd be honoured to eat with you and discuss further relations between our peoples."

"Wonderful, this way."

The afternoon proved to be a nightmare.

After being seated at a table that held enough food to feed all of the children outside for days, Teyla and the king, whose name had finally been revealed as Mabon had begun to lay a diplomatic framework. Pleasantries were exchanged, offers were made, histories were delved into and John, once again, realised it was possible to be both on edge and bored out of your skull at the same time.

Rodney, for his part, was once again enjoying himself immensely. Some of the extra equipment he had brought had captured the attention of one of the local scientists. Even more surprising, the young woman apparently found Rodney's insults to be a quote "refreshing change" to the platitudes of her own people. As a result, Rodney was happily spending his afternoon trading barbs at a speed no sane mortal would attempt to follow. Now John finally understood why General O'Neill constantly muttered about magnets. It was far easier to smile and nod while the science geeks rambled on and read up on the theories afterwards from people who had the time edit their techno babble back into English.

Ronon, on the other hand seemed content to stand menacingly in the corner, John had rarely seen a man so excited by the concept of guard duty but to each his own. John certainly wasn't going to complain; with SGA-1's track record they needed some paranoid brute force watching their back on occasion.

Seriously though, if John didn't get out of here soon, even for a few minutes, he was going to lose it. Just being in the same room as that smarmy king was pushing John closer and closer to the edge, he needed air, now. All of a sudden, the atmosphere in the room changed slightly. Looking over he saw Teyla slowly stretching and rising from her chair. John went over, wondering just what he had missed this time.

"Is everything okay?"

"I believe so. It is, however, a shame the minerals this country mines are so valuable." Teyla lightly wrinkled her nose.

"You have more concerns? Do you advise backing out now?"

"I do not believe we need to react that drastically . . . yet. There is something that unsettling about this people. King Mabon holds an unusual amount of power over his subjects. I am concerned for the morals and ethics upon which he rules his country." Teyla shrugged and sighed carelessly "I am hopeful this next stage of negotiations will be more enlightening on the subject."

"You going to ask him about the kids?"

"Of course John. Their living conditions were also disturbing. On Athos we were taught to believe children were a gift, to see so many treated in such a manner . . ."

"Yeah, I know what you mean." John examined Teyla's face for signs of strain "You sure you're okay?"

Teyla sized John up, concern for her leader still laying present in her subconscious. He was reminding her of the young boys in her village come spring, rather than listening to the tales of their elders; they practically vibrated with anticipation of leaving their huts and running in the forests.

"Yes John, I have dealt with far more difficult negotiations than this one. I am merely troubled over the inconsistencies. Perhaps you would be willing to explore the situation from a local perspective? Ronon and I are perfectly capable of supervising Dr. McKay and the talks would go much faster if I had a better picture of what we were dealing with."

John's eyes widened at Teyla having caught his discomfort and dropped his eyes in embarrassment, curious at how much she had guessed. Lifting his eyes back up and with a genuine smile John whispered "Thanks." Turning to the guards at the door and explaining his need to "stretch his legs" John quickly left the room.

Rapidly exiting the palace, John found himself drawing in a sigh of relief as he entered the lush gardens. Though he still felt uncomfortable amidst the extravagance, at least out here, under the sky, John could breathe.

Having cleared his head, John squared his shoulders and began heading towards the gate. If he wanted to talk to honest, real people and not just Mabon's lackeys he was going to have to leave the palace. John knew just where to start. Waving at the guards with a lazy smile, John headed off the palace grounds and began heading back towards the small shanties.

Recognizing the potential of scaring such obviously mistreated children, John decided to approach the camp slowly and head on, always remaining in plain view of the small boy from earlier, their obvious leader. As he drew nearer he watched their eyes scrunch up, their faces twisting into the expected masks of confusion and mistrust.

"Hey," John waved with a friendly smile and a slow, steady voice, "my name is Sheppard, what's yours?"

The children just stared silently at him.

"Right, well then. My friends and I came to visit your plan-country and were hoping to make some new friends. On our world, we have this custom of sharing food with our friends as a way of helping the introductions. So I was wondering, would you like something to eat?" John carefully dug out the power bars and chocolate he kept in his Tac vest at all times, gently extending his arms, and the food, out towards the children.

The oldest boy gravely considered John's offer before hunger over ruled and he snatched the bars from John's hands. Turning slightly, he passed them to an older girl who began distributing them to the youngest of the gathered children in wonder.

Tentatively, turning back towards John, Sheppard could see that the boy's eyes had relaxed slightly, though his body remained on alert, as though looking for something. At this point, John was grateful for any victory. John began to think back to his camp days, trying to remember something that would help put the youngster at ease when he heard it, a gun cocking at his back.

Turning around slowly, John looked over to see the palace guards, fierce disgust on their face. Before John could explain or react, the butt of the gun slammed into his head, crumpling him to the ground in a boneless heap.

The last thing he heard before succumbing to the darkness was the sound of a gun firing, a body falling, and the muffled cries of wounded children as he gave into the darkness that claimed him for its own.


	5. Chapter 5

*Disclaimer still applies – see chapter one for details*

A.N. Thanks to Samantha for keeping me on track and thanks to all who read and review! You are amazing and continually encourage me to want to improve. Now back to our semi-regularly scheduled program.

Drip

Drip

Drip

"Ugh" Sheppard swatted half-heartedly at the source of his annoyance, only to be stopped by a sudden, nauseating wave of pain. What the heck? John quickly ran through his last memories, attempting to figure out why was everything was so fuzzy, literally and figuratively, and where in the world was he now.

John, slowly blinked his eyes open against the pain, gently pushed himself up off the cold ground, and began making a quick survey of the room. He was in a dark cell, assumingly underground as there were no windows and the only light in the room was courtesy of a small crack under the door. Strengthening the currently popular underground theory was the fact that his small cell was comprised entirely of hewn rock and the drip that had awoken him was condensation that John imagined was covering all surrounding surfaces, if the cold damp floor he was laying on was any indicator. All in all, the room seemed depressingly secure. At least he had the benefit of being alone, that meant his team may have avoided whatever mess he had currently landed himself in. Actually, come to think about it, what had he done to end up in this mess? Even with his currently scattered thoughts, John could not think of anything even remotely provoking enough to get him imprisoned and this was an area in which he was very well experienced.

John sighed and ran his hands through his hair, only to stop halfway grimacing in pain. Slowly moving his hands under his nose, John smelt the distinct, coppery tang of blood. Well, at least that explains the fuzzy memories. Dumb and Dumber must have given him a concussion when the picked him up for these 'luxurious accommodations.' On the plus side, the blood was definitely starting to congeal which meant the wound was starting to close. This did not look like the kind of place that would be conducive to open wounds.

Giving himself a hasty once over John was able to add bruised ribs and the usual collection of cuts and scrapes to his injury tally for Carson. While not overly serious (for his personal track record it was actually a fairly mild total . . . so far), the injuries did not bode well for John's prolonged health. His bruised ribs appeared to be the result of a number of well aimed punches while he was unconscious. That meant the guards were either encouraged to take their anger, boredom, and/or frustration out on prisoners without repercussions, or the guards simply didn't care who found out. The location of the cuts and scrapes, on the hand, seemed to hint at a lack of concern by said guards while delivering his unconscious self to his current location. The bruises on his lower half and around his wrists hinted at his having been physically dragged through the rough terrain before, what he imagined, would have been a rather unceremonious dumping into the dark. John had seen that combination of power and disregard in guards and the results were never good for the prisoners in their care.

Gritting his teeth, John finally succeeded in pushing himself up into a sitting position, away from the cold floor that was quickly stealing what little body heat he still possessed. Questions began racing through John's head

"Who was holding him prisoner?"

"What the heck had he done . . . this time?"

"How was he getting out?"

"When did he get changed into a prisoner uniform and who had changed him?"

To be honest, John found the last question to be the most currently pressing. Apparently, while unconscious, someone had taken his gear and replaced it with a simple brown tunic and leggings that were made out of something that reminded him of the old burlap sacks he had used as a child. Whoever the culprits had been they had even taken his boots, leaving him with some sort of canvas coverings that, John assumed, provided as much protection as a pair of socks, great. John began to shudder slightly in a combination of pain, cold, and revulsion.

It just didn't make sense. His last memories were of those kids outside the palace and then nothing. Of all the luck! Seriously, only someone on his team could manage to find this much trouble on a simple diplomatic meet and greet. John's stomach growled in response and John scowled at its dismay. Just how long had he been unconscious? Had his team discovered his absence yet? Somebody had to be able to give him some sort of answers.

"Hello? Is anybody out there? Hello? Come on can't you at least tell me why I'm here?" John huffed as silence met his questions.

Just perfect. Alone, injured, and imprisoned . . . again. Situations like this needed some sort of plan. Obviously, he wasn't going anywhere fast, solid rock had a tendency of being, well, solid. That means the current priority is either staying alive to be rescued or staying alive until some sort of escape presents itself. Settling down against the wall, drawing his legs further inward against the pervasive chill, John prepared to wait for his captors to make their next move, unaware when sleep overtook him again.

* * *

"Get up you worthless piece of –"

John woke with a start. Not only had he fallen asleep with a head injury (real smart move there John) but he been far enough out to have remained oblivious when two large, angry guards entered his cell and shackled his wrists and ankles. John shivered slightly at the feeling of vulnerability and cursed his lack of vigilance. Without a word the two guards, whom John decided to nickname Larry and Fred, roughly hauled the injured Lieutenant Colonel to his feet and pushed him, stumbling, out the cell door. Seeing any chance for a quick, peaceful resolution quickly dissolving, John decided to take a chance.

"Hey guys, look, this is all a big misunderstanding. I'm just a simple visitor to your world. Your King invited us to negotiate for trade. I'm sure if you just let me talk to him we can clear this all up in no time. No real harm done." John attempted to raise his manacled hands in a non-threatening manner and gave the two guards his best innocent puppy dog stare.

"There is no misunderstanding you have been charged and convicted of crimes against the crown."

"Convicted? How the hell could I have been convicted, I've been locked up here at the Hilton all night?" anger pushing John to drop all pretence.

"A suitable advocate was located to speak on your behalf. After examining the undeniable evidence in place, he saw no alternative but to enter your guilty plea." The guard, Larry, grinned tauntingly at John.

"Undeniable evidence my . . . I just bet he 'pled' guilty on my behalf." John muttered in incredulous shock.

Fred looked unimpressed by John's response and stoically carried on with the, obviously, well rehearsed spiel. "However, as an off worlder your advocate petitioned leniency, which the judge saw fit to grant." Fred sniffed as though the thought of John receiving any leniency was an abomination to justice. "Your final, reduced sentence is 10 years hard labour in the King's mines, where you will gratefully work off your debt to society."

"10 years! You have got to be kidding me. You still haven't even informed me of my supposed crime! What kind of legal circus are you monkeys running here!"

"Silence! As your sentence had now been delivered, you are no longer permitted to speak to those of higher station without proper invitation, which I have not granted you" John could have sworn Larry smirked at the thought of John being subservient. "You are to be transported to the mines where your sentence will commence immediately."

With that, Larry and Fred began to propel their captive down a harshly lit hallway, taking pleasure in watching John stumble on the uneven ground with his unprotected feet and manacled limbs. When they finally reached the end of the long corridor, John found himself pushed into what he could only guess was an early model elevator and the trio began to descend further into the dark earth. A long five minutes later, they entered a small holding area where John was checked in, prisoner 47874 the guard noted with a disinterested tone, unshackled and guided roughly into his new home.

The room was surprising large and John wondered how many prisoners had given their lives to hollow out the massive space. The rock ceilings were staggering in scope, John estimated them to be at least 50 feet and he spotted a guards level hollowed out halfway up. This meant the guards had perfect access to the prisoners and the prisoners would have no defence against the potentially trigger happy guards. Perfect, John thought grimly. Off to his right, John could see a slowly dwindling line of prisoners, all women and children, receiving rations, which even the most charitable of people wouldn't be able to classify as food. John briefly wondered if the meagre amounts were daily or if this was a regular meal. Judging by the frail population, John was forced to guess the former.

On his left, was a group of thugs, already well through their rations. They had to be the unofficial leaders: strong, first to eat, and confident, though obviously wary of the guards. The most unsettling part they didn't bear the marks of men who had been imprisoned long. One man still showed the faint signs of a tan, obviously impossible to achieve underground. If new arrivals were able to make it that high in the prison hierarchy that fast, this was yet another cause for concern. Best case scenario, the men had been permitted a ruthless rise to the top or, worse, nature had cleared the path for them.

Aside from that, the room was empty, minus the varying tunnels leading off in various directions to who knows where. John assumed they must lead to the aforementioned mines and his aching muscles hoped sleeping quarters might also be revealed in their depths.

Shaking himself from his observations, John noticed the food line dwindling and quickly took his place at the end, no need to shake up the locals too soon, experience had driven that point home the last few times he was taken captive. Experience, oh there was a frightening thought, when had he reached the point where this was an area he was experienced in, Heightmeyer would have a field day with that if . . . no when he got back. Either way, experience had taught him that a low profile was usually smarter when first arriving into an alien prison, gave you time to learn the ins and outs before you destroyed them or they destroyed you. Now there were some unpleasant memories.

John was further surprised when more people began filing into line before him, low enough in prison status that even the new comer could safely eat before them. Looking back, John could see it was another group of children, even younger than those who had been ahead of him in line, painfully emaciated, and broken in so many ways. John guessed some of them would be dead, casualties of the mines by the end of the week and yet . . . . There at the end of the line stood a sight that defied all logic. The very last prisoner to enter the food line was an old woman; greeting the young children with a smile and helping them gather their rations.

From her appearance, John would easily have placed her in her early seventies but realised that prison life may have prematurely aged her, making her true age impossible to guess. No matter how curious the sight, John certainly wasn't going to ask the old woman her age, no matter what planet John may be stuck on, he knew that such a question had every making of being his last.

John quickly grabbed his small bowl of rations and hunkered down in the closest corner to continue his evaluations. The women, whom he learned was named Nelea from the cries of the children surrounding her, seemed to have deemed herself care taker of the children. Though John assumed all was fair in the mines, in her presence, at least, the children were left in peace. John decided in that moment to get to know the frail old women better. She was unassuming but obviously had influence among the prisoners and possibly some of the guards; in knowledge alone she could prove to be invaluable asset in any escape attempt.

Suddenly, the room began to clear, as a whistle blew and the prisoners quickly dispersed into their various tunnels, leaving John virtually alone in the cavernous room. Now what? John scanned the guard level; while they didn't appear overly impressed with his continued presence, they also didn't look like they'd be offering any direction in the near future. Nope, definitely not impressed. What was a guy to do? Someone should really develop a manual on proper etiquette in alien prisons.

"You could at least give me a little hint ya know" John muttered exasperatedly when his attention was drawn to one of the closer tunnels. John could have sworn he had seen a pair of eyes staring at him out of the darkness and, giggling, at his frustration. Yet, when he looked back the tunnel was undeniably empty.

"Great John, are hallucinations part of concussions? Why do you always ignore Carson when he starts talking about the useful information? When I get back to Atlantis we're all getting recertified in first aid."

Excuse me Son?" The voice sounded as old as time, but John could detect a hint of warmth that the guards had yet to extinguish. It was the old woman form the meal line, Nelea.

"Son? Can you hear me? I know you can speak, I heard you muttering at the guards already." Nelea had a gentle smile on her face and gestured to John as though he were a trapped animal and not a daydreaming man.

"Um, yes, sorry about that, it's been a long day" John blushed a little at the woman's quiet approach.

"One's first day anywhere is often tiring, in circumstances such as these, it is all the more to be expected. The guards will not tell you were to go you must understand. They expect you to know and obey without instruction or question." Nelea shook her head "to be honest, I believe many of the guards take this job because they enjoy the power and control, the ability to hurt another living being. I have seen many guards corrupted by the power they feel breaking others, especially prisoners like you."

"Like me?" John's face drew in question.

"Oh my poor dear, they didn't tell you your crime did they? I'm afraid there is no time for that discussion tonight, you have been assigned first shift in the tunnels and your sleep is important, I will take you to the sleeping quarters right away, follow me dear." She gestured for John to follow her into one of the dark openings.

John froze "Why are you helping me?"

"Isn't it enough to want to help another undeserving soul?" She looked at John with shrewd eyes "I have been a prisoner here many years, I lived many more before that, my reasons are my own, but the choice to trust me is up to you and you alone." She softened "the guards are getting anxious though son, you would be safer entering the tunnels with me."

Well, he had said he wanted to get to know the woman better and something about her, down in his gut, just seemed honest. Oh well, here we go again.

Nelea tilted her head as she waited for his response.

"My name is John Sheppard"

Smiling, Nelea turned to the tunnels "very well John Sheppard, follow me."

* * *

The duo entered into the closest tunnels and John suddenly found himself overwhelmed by visions of and sympathy for the science rats on Atlantis. The tunnels themselves were narrow, dark, and damp, the air so humid it took John a moment to adjust and catch his breath. Even more amazing was the fact that the tunnels branched off in every conceivable direction. John was suddenly very grateful for his old and steady guide, if he ever got lost in this maze he would surely starve before he found his way out, but, perhaps that was the point.

After a few minutes of navigating, Nelea pointed John into a small cave. Inside lay rows of threadbare mattress, each filled with the young boys John had spotted earlier, already fast asleep and using the others for warmth. Navigating through the crowded room, Nelea led John through an adjoining door. Letting his eyes adjust, John could see they now stood in the middle of a smaller room, one door to the front leading into what he assumed were the tunnels , one leading off into the dark, and another leading into a room very much like the one they had just passed through. The room itself held 4 threadbare mattresses, a small roughly made table, two benches, and a small fire pit, crackling merrily.

"I thought, John Sheppard, you would be safer here, I serve as a healer for the prisoners and this space is safe, even for new arrivals. You may claim a mattress of your choosing, that alcove leads to an area where you can take of more basic needs" Nelea gave John a pointed glance " as for that door, it leads to the girls quarters as I'm sure a bright boy like yourself has already determined. If I ever see you in there without permission, young man, I will not hesitate to put you over my knee. Consider this your only warning."

John had to bite back a smile at Nelea's warning. Somehow, slight frame and all, he knew she'd follow through on that threat if pushed. Now there was an image.

"Now that you know the ground rules, go on and rest dear. I know that you've been hurt and sleep will be a strong ally in your fight here. I will attempt to find suitable supplies to aid your recovery during the work period tomorrow."

With fatigue quickly overtaking him and the promise of a safe night sleep, John wearily looked around and sank into the mattress closest to the boy's room, falling into a troubled sleep.

* * *

"John, John Sheppard. Please you must wake up it is almost time for your shift."

"Ngh" John Sheppard did not want to get up, he was sore, tired, and it felt like he had slept on rocks. Wait a minute, he was sleeping on rocks. All of a sudden, the memories rushed back into place and John opened his eyes to see Nelea, looking over him worriedly.

"Oh praise be, I was becoming concerned that your injuries may have been more severe than I originally assumed and you would not wake in time for work. This is Timeus. He is also on first shift and has agreed to guide you to the work shafts. I did not feel comfortable with you navigating on your own so soon."

John looked around the sparse room and quickly spotted Timeus. He was short, like all of the children he had spotted thus far and painfully emaciated. John was quickly reminded of the children outside the palace and wondered if they had survived the arrest intact.

"Tis' way Sheppard," While Sheppard had sat musing, Timeus had already headed to the door and way holding open the cloth covering impatiently. Stiffly, John rose from his mattress and followed Timeus into the dim maze.

"We don't get fed til after shift cause we're firsties" Timeus stated in a proud, matter of fact, manner as they set out towards the mine shafts. "We're not soft like second shifters who need to eat before they earn a day's duty."

"Right" John answered slowly.

"Now, Nelea wants me to help you learn the ropes so listen up, okay? Whatever you do stay off third shift, they tend to die the quickest, probably cause Micus was promoted to overseer. He likes to drive a body to the edge and he's good at it. Besides with the way things are up top, supplies are hard to come by, workers aren't. We get fed twice a day, once after first shift and then once after third, there are five shifts in a cycle, got that? Good. Otherwise keep your head down, work hard, and don't make trouble, you'll do fine." Timeus paused and looked up at John with an expression that instantly reminded John just how young his street-smart guide truly was, "and please just try to stay alive, k? Nelea's taken a liking to you for some strange inkling and we like Nelea. It would be hard on someone so old to lose another pet project so quickly."

"How long did the last, um, pet project last" John felt distinctly uncomfortable with being labelled a pet, project variety or otherwise.

"That one was stupid, cocky, couldn't keep their mouth shut -" Timeus sighed in remembrance, "Nelea always seems to be attracted to that type, though if the rumours are true . . ."

"Rumours?"

The boys' eyes hardened, "You may be a firstie but you're still new, you have to earn the right to know a body's story round here, got it."

John stepped back and attempted to look non-threatening, child or not, Timeus didn't seem like someone John should alienate "I got it, wasn't trying to cause trouble, it was just a question. I like Nelea too."

John's words seemed to have the right effect and Timeus continued. "Last one only made one guard rotation; Nelea told me once that rotation would be 10 passings of the moon if we were up side. Don't worry though, if you can survive your first two rotations you might even make it as long as I have." The boy grinned proudly.

"And how long have you been down here, Timeus?"

The boy looked thoughtful "I was arrested with my family just after my eighth birthday, they said my father had done something during the celebration and we were traitors to the crown" Timeus' voice softened "I was let into the mines one rotation before the Day of Dues. It is the day once a year; I think that's the right word, yeah, year, when all who have finished their sentence are released back to the up side. The next Day of Dues is in four rotations."

John quickly did the math. That meant Timeus had somehow survived over 10 months in this place, that certainly explained some of the kid's more unusual quirks.

John and Timeus rounded a dark corner and entered a dimly lit shaft. In the distance, John could hear the whistle from the night before loudly sound and realised first shift was about to begin.

"This is our stop, time to get to work" Timeus grinned.

John surveyed the scene in front of him and fought the urge to groan. Things just kept getting better and better.


	6. Chapter 6

A.N. Thank you one and all for your patience! I am back (mostly, hopefully) after a long hiatus from writing in general after a very rough semester that had left me fairly exhausted on many levels. Just a word of warning this chapter has not been to beta. First, I need to reconnect and see if my old one will take me back. Second, I wanted this up sooner rather than later. So my sincere apologies, hope you enjoy and please review

Recap chapter 5

"This is our stop, time to get to work" Timeus grinned.

John surveyed the scene in front of him and fought the urge to groan. Things just kept getting better and better.

And now back to our massively irregularly scheduled story.

* * *

John bit back a groan as he surveyed his new surroundings. The tunnel Timeus had led them too was dark and small. It reminded John of the old mine shafts he had seen in the cowboy westerns he and David had watched during happier times. Lit only by some sort of oil lamps, shadows danced throughout the space, hiding guards who stood posed ready to strike at the slightest sign of fatigue from the workers. John was also surprised that the space was cold and damp, with more of the condensation he had found in his first cell streaking down the walls.

Most unnerving, though, were the workers. Aside from a small group toiling to his left John estimated he was the oldest worker by at least fifteen years. The average worker looked to be only ten years old. What could these children have done to deserve such a fate? Come to think of it, what had he done? Did anyone actually know why they were being condemned to a life of slavery and an early death? Somehow John had the sneaking suspicion that many of his surrounding prisoners were just as clueless as he was.

"Psst"

John's head whipped around at the sound. It was Timeus, looking very much like a boy who had been saddled with his younger sibling for the day and was annoyed at having his scheduled interrupted.

"Hey, new guy, remember what I said about staying out of trouble? For Nelea's sake? Pick up a tool that you think your skinny arms can manage and let's get to work."

"Sorry," John replied, sounding only slightly repentant. Leaning over and picking up something that resembled a dull pick axe, John followed Timeus to the far end of the mind shaft and lifting up the axe above his head, began to chip away at the unending rock before him.

After what seemed like hours, John wiped his forehead for what seemed like the hundredth time that shift, vainly attempting to clear the constantly beading sweat from his eyes. He was beginning to understand why there were so few adults or long term prisoners within the mine; work like this would destroy anybody given enough time.

Frowning slightly, John pondered and looked around making sure to maintain a steady pace with his axe. All around him young men struggled to chip away at the unmoving earth, bowing beneath the weight of jobs to harsh for their weakened bodies. Occasionally, a young man would slip or stumble – from fatigue, injury, or malnutrition – John couldn't say and a guard, under the urging of their overseer – a man John had learned was called Riyal – would quickly "motivate" them to continue their work, alternating between a fist and what appeared to be some sort of crop.

Just how had Nelea managed to survive these conditions? John sent up a silent prayer that his team would find a solution to this soon.

Crack

John fought back a wince as a guard's crop rained down upon his mostly unprotected back. Linen just did not serve as a good deterrent. Catching a look of warning from Timeus, John fought back the urge to react and quickly returned to work, wincing as he felt his newly reinjured muscles protest at the harsh movement. Just how long did a shift last anyway? John knew his internal clock was not functioning properly but if a "day" broke down into 5 shifts than, logically, a shift should be about four and a half hours. John would have bet a week's supply of coffee though that they had been mining away in this dank hole for close to eight. Making matters worse, John couldn't shake the feeling that he was being watched. All throughout the shift John could swear that he saw the same small eyes peeking out from the surrounding tunnels watching him.

Suddenly, in the unseen distance, a whistle blew shrilly and the workers around John slowly began to file towards the tunnel's entrance, laying down their tools, and shuffling wearily into the maze of tunnels as a new group began to file in from another opening John was startled to realise he had failed to notice over the entire shift.

"Oi, Sheppard, you comin' or not? It's meal shift and not to be insultin' or nothing but you're kinda scrawny." Timeus smirked by the doorway.

"I'm coming." Slowly John made his way over to the entrance, carefully laid down his axe while remaining out of Riyal's reach, and followed Timeus into the maze.

"Is it always like that Timeus?"

"Like what?"

"The work, in the dark . . . the guards" John trailed off remembering a few particular instances where the guards had "corrected" a prisoner to the point John wondered if they would ever get up again. Though each man, child, had eventually risen, John knew their screams would fill his nightmares.

"Oh, that. Naw sometimes the guards are cranky and they'll smack ya for nothing at all but I think yesterday was a celebration or something, so they we're in a good enough mood today. This way" Timeus darted down a side tunnel waving Sheppard along behind him.

Doubling his pace to keep up, John followed Timeus through the tunnels. Stumbling through the winding passageways John felt relieved when a wisp of fresher air hit his face and he realised that Timeus had led him back to the main room from the night before, only now from the opposite side. In the center of the room stood the rations line, filled with shift workers anxiously pushing their way to the line's beginnings while, off in the corner, Nelea stood patiently rounding up the youngest and frailest to wait for what scraps were left.

"I know what you're thinkin and don't bother"

John bit back a sigh at Timeus' comment "and what was I thinking of doing?"

"Helping Nelea, which is cute and everything but it hurts 'em more in the long run. Would destroy your reputation as a man and make 'em targets for revenge when you act up, if you was caught helping their kind out here."

Recognizing the wisdom of the boy's comments, John silently slid into line with the rest of his shift feeling Nelea and the children's eyes on his back. Shuffling forward, John quietly accepted his "meal," a small bowl of gruel that reminded him of lemon pudding with the added delight of possessing a consistency closer to oatmeal jello. John could almost hear Rodney complaining now.

Finding a seat at the wall, John slowly began to eat his meagre rations and waited for Nelea to join him. As he expected, once the line was through the old woman slowly made her way over with a group of children and made herself comfortable by his side.

"How was your first shift?"

"Fine" John replied cautiously "Timeus was helpful, thank you for introducing us."

"He's a good boy, so hopeful he may be released at the Day of Dues" Nelea saddened at the thought "I'm glad he was helpful. I too was productive, I found supplies to treat your wounds today" she smiled up at John sweetly. "We will bandage your wounds after meal."

You got ..." John was cut off mid sentence as a small object came flying past him and landed next to Nelea. Bracing himself for an attack, John was surprised when a pair of small blue eyes peered back up at him.

"So, you do exist" John whispered to himself.

"I see you have met a prison child" Nelea smirked, though John could have sworn there was a hint of sadness hidden within. "Yes, this one seems to have taken a liking to you. According to Timeus she's been following you since your arrival."

John paused and examined the young girl. She was tiny, like all the other children he had seen so far but from what he had learned today about aging, he guessed her to be approximately four years old. Aside from her painfully thin build, ragged appearance (John guessed she'd have brown or blonde hair if it was clean but from the dreads forming in her long tangles, John guessed a luxury like clean hair had become a long forgotten dream) and startling pale complexion (most likely resulting from her life underground) her most prominent features were her vivid blue eyes, that even amidst the hardships of mining life sparkled with life and energy. She reminded John of a bird he had seen once, small and delicate, but full of life that defied the odds.

"Prision child?" John quirked his head towards Nelea who had started patting the young girl, now nuzzled close to her side and carefully eating her own portion of gruel while her eyes constantly flitted throughout the room searching out potential dangers.

Nelea looked up, almost ashamed to meet the man's eyes. "This is not talk for the open. If you truly wish to know I shall tell you after. Perhaps the story will help pass the time while I am tending your wounds?" Nelea shrugged mildly obviously uncomfortable with the subject.

Finishing up their meal (which passed far too quickly) John, against Timeus' warning glances, helped Nelea and the children clean up their space and walked them back to Nelea's hovel. Upon entering, Nelea began to busy herself preparing supplies, boiling water, stoking the fire, and laying out the tools of her trade for the work ahead while John awkwardly stood in the doorway feeling all like a child again waiting for the principal to call him to his office.

"You could sit down ya know." The voice was thin band reminded John of a bird chirping through the now smoky room "on the mat? Nelea can't help you like that. You're too tall." The young girl smiled widely.

"Oh, right" John slowly ambled over to the mat in question and made himself comfortable in such a way that Nelea would have the freedom to move but he would be able to watch for any newcomers through the door. "So, what's your name?"

"Name? Oh you mean what they call me? Well Nelea calls me child, I like that one best. The other children call me freak, and the guards call me . . ."

"Child, that's more than enough prattle. I need John to be relaxed while I help him and all this chatter does not bring me aid." Nelea had a look of warning in her eyes, though John could not tell if it was for him or the girl.

"Yes, Maura" the girl responded, head down and voice subdued.

"Good girl, now why don't you go into the other room and get some sleep, the mat by the fire is free at the moment." Nelea's face had softened considerably at the girl's reply.

Really?" the child bounced up from the other mat and ran into the girl's sleeping area. Stretching his neck slightly, John could see her eagerly snuggle into a pile of rags by the fire, a look of pure bliss illuminating her face.

"You have questions?"

"Damn right I have questions, Maura? Why doesn't that child have a name? What is going on in this place, and why I'm here would be excellent places to start."

"Those are difficult questions John; I must ask your patience if you wish honest answers."

"You have it" John answered gruffly as Nelea had bent over and begun to clean the lash marks on his back.

"To answer your first question " Nelea began, pausing slightly as she reached for more water to continue cleaning John's back " Maura is simply a term of respect used to describe an older women who is not of your blood. As I have no living relative's and am noticeably older than the other prisoners" John smiled slightly at that exaggeration reflecting back on the children who worked with him during the shift that morning "it has become a commonly used title in reference to me over the years. I do not mind so much, it does bring many good memories, memories of happier times." Nelea smiled slightly before it faded into a frown. "As for your other question's, their answers are neither simple nor happy."

"Official word among the guards is that you have been condemned for espionage and plotting to overthrow the glorious reign of our king" Nelea snorted. "You actually find yourself in good company. This is the "official" charge which has condemned many prisoners, myself included." John started at this information but quieted when Nelea quickly continued. "In truth, it takes virtually nothing to earn a life sentence, something as simple as looking at the right person the wrong way has led people to their end."

"All I did was give some kids a chocolate bar. In the end, we didn't even have time to talk, they were too scared."

Nelea froze at this information "which children?"

"Well how am I supposed to know? They lived in this slum between the town's outskirts and the palace. I didn't see any adults, looked like they were orphans or abandoned."

Nelea's faced darkened with grief "that explains everything. I can explain John Sheppard – why you are here, why I am here, and why the girl lives as she does – but first we must start with history, for if we are honest with ourselves, nothing is as truly new as we imagine."

"Long ago this planet was peaceful. We lived within our separate clans and travelled the world as our needs required. Life was simple, our people were happy. One day a clan fell into trouble during a great drought and asked their neighbours for aid. Instead of aiding their neighbours and continuing on their journey, the assisting clan was astonished to find themselves overwhelmed with a thirst of power in their dominance over the weaker clan. Their need for control grew and our once peaceful planet found itself overcome by war. Clans enslaved one another in the growing struggle for supremacy. Treachery and paranoia became the heralds of the land. The nomads were hunted and persecuted to the brink of extinction out of fear due to their untameable spirit and the land mourned the loss of its people." Nelea's eyes grew distant.

"I have lived in these mines 5 years John Sheppard."

John shook at the revelation of this. "Five? Five years?"

Nelea smiled bitterly, "yes, for my punishment is to live. As I said, our world is at war. One ruler gains power until his brutality can no longer bear its weight and a new ruler rises to claim his place. To maintain their rule as long as possible, cleansings of the 'undesirables' occur periodically. We are all victims of cleansing."

At this revelation John frowned, how could a young child, an old women, and a visiting solider all be victim of some sort of political cleansing? John began to feel a sense of unease growing in his stomach.

"Five years ago I lived a far different life John Sheppard. I had a husband, children, and grandchildren – beautiful and full of spirit. We belonged to the Laramel, one of the final nomadic clans allowed to live freely on the land as was intended. My son, Treyius was a dreamer and he feared for the safety of his wife and children. One night, he came to my husband and I telling us of his latest dream. He wished to overthrow the ruling monarch with the help of a young man from a neighbouring tribe in the hope of bringing a greater peace to his children. We knew the risks but agreed that inaction was the most dangerous course. A rebellion was planned and carried out successfully . . . until the transfer of power occurred. Treyius was betrayed by his partner Mabon"

At the mention of Mabon, John let out his breath.

"I see you do pay attention. Yes, King Mabon was my son's partner in the old rebellion. However, upon reaching power he was instantly struck with the fear my son would partner with his enemies to bring about a similar fate down upon himself. He had our family arrested before the end of his coronation. My beloved husband was killed during the initial arrest, his heart stopped beating from the stress of seeing his family in chains. In many ways, he had the easiest fate of us all. My son, his wife Limea, and their two children were all sentenced to the mines. As for myself, it was deemed that only through a parent's guidance could a man turn to such treachery and, as such, I too was imprisoned to live in the mines but not to work, that would be too easy. My sentence was to live the rest of my natural life in these mines caring for the young and injured watching those I care about waste away. To this end, the guards ensure my survival so that I do not miss the full weight of my 'crimes,' as if the pain I have already suffered is not enough."

"My son, Treyuis, died in an accident 3 rotations after his sentencing, or so they claim. Rumblings from his surviving shift mates say the tunnel that gave way was secure only two shifts earlier. That only a deliberate charge could have brought it down, though of course, nothing can be proved"Nelea grimaced.

"Four rotations after his death, a plague entered the mines. My grandchildren were four and seven," Nelea's voice wavered. "My helpers and I worked tirelessly for weeks trying to save those we could with our meagre supplies. I found my grandchildren's bodies one morning; they had died in their sleep while I tended another wing. In many ways the prison child reminds me of what Malina might have been like should she have lived."

"Why not take the girl in then, you obviously care for her?"

"I believe I asked your patience?" Nelea asked quirking her eyebrow.

"I'm sorry, I just . . . argh, I don't understand, she's innocent, she's a child!" John's voice began to climb slightly.

"Evil is hard to comprehend but to answer your question, I stay away to protect the child, not harm her. If I laid claim to her care the guards were punish her as though she were my own blood. She would not survive a rotation as my ward." Nelea's voice cracked with grief. "It is hard enough watching her as it, knowing what can never be. Please do not add to my grief."

"I have watched her since her birth, the chil, but let us not jump too far ahead of ourselves. My daughter in law, Limea survived another six rotations after her children's death. She fought on for my sake you understand, unwilling to leave me alone to my fate. After Treyuis' death, though, the guards began to take an increased interest in her. She would disappear for hours, like so many young women down here, and I would find her at the start of the next shift battered and crying. I tried to protect her, I tried so hard, but one morning she realised she was with child. The timing was wrong, it could not be Treyius', it had to belong to one of the guards. Her body was found the next morning." A lone tear snaked down Nelea's face.

"Since then, I have continued using their inability to kill me to press for the care of those with no one to care for them, such as Timeus, the child, and even you John."

"I can take care of myself.

"Until others need your protection more. No, you need someone to compensate for your dreadful self-preservation skills," a small smirk graced her face once more.

"Now your back will be sore, and you have a nasty gash on your left arm you must look after lest it becomes infected, but that has you patched until next shift. Would you like to rest now, hear about the child, or your own crime?"

Stretching out gently and realigning his body to look Nelea in the eye John barely hesitated before voicing "the child."

"The child, was born one year after my own arrival into the mines. Her mother, a young woman who never did tell me her name, had been with my dear Limea. She was another young beauty despite her time in the mines: blonde hair, bright eyes the guards claimed her as their own almost instantly. Unlike my daughter in law, she thrived on the knowledge she had a child growing within her and worked hard to prepare for the impending birth. She would often come to me late at night when the child's movements kept her awake or the long days wore on her changing body but I didn't mind. She had a spirit that brightened the room, and rarely ever dulled, she simply lived in hope that tomorrow would always be new, and that hope remained eternal.

"Not long before the child's arrival, I began to notice the girl's movements had slowed and grown clumsier than her pregnancy merited. Her breathing became shallower and she struggled through the simplest tasks, wheezing with the effort. Two rotations before the child's birth I realised she had contracted an illness of the lungs. I do not know the name of this monster but what i knew was enough: it strikes fast, it strikes the young, and it is almost always fatal. She died within hours of her baby's birth. I found a wet nurse and ensured the child's care as best I could but, as I said, to shield her life I am forced to keep her forever at arm's length." She looked over at the child, sleeping peacefully in the other room hair sprayed across her face and thumb in her mouth, with a wistful look.

"But why not at least give her a name? Why leave her as child or worse?"

Nelea stared silently bewildered at John's question for a moment before quietly responding "I already explained that."

"You did?" Now it was John's turn to be confused.

"I cannot claim the child lest she suffer like my family. I care too much for her to die for my own weakness."

"I'm lost."

"In our culture, to take a child in you give them a name in front of the community. The community then has the chance to oppose or bless the pairing. It has been this way since the beginning of our world and has rarely failed to work for the benefit of child and clan. We care for our young John, but down here people to apathetic to complete the ceremony. If one was to give her an official name in front of the prisoners, they would become her guardian, no one would care enough to oppose, just as no one cares enough to give her a name in the first place."

John paused as understanding painfully dawned on him. Suddenly, his face wrinkled as a question began to form. "If your culture cares so much about their children, why were there a group of kids living in the middle of nowhere like yesterday's garbage?"

"And so we reach your arrival John. The children of which you speak are the Lameaon, my world's greatest shame. When Mabon had my son thrown in here his paranoia did not lessen but rather grew to levels unseen in our past. To ease his fears, Mabon began a series of purges which continue to this day. With increasing frequency, judging by the gossip of new prisoners, Mabon rounds up his enemies, real or imagined, and has them publically executed. Their children are then exiled to the land which you spoke of, serving as ongoing reminders to those who may wish to plot against the King of the consequences of such actions. Actions as simple as speaking a kind word to one of the Lameaon is punishable by time in the mines. It is considered high treason," Nelea laughed softly.

"So I was arrested for talking to orphaned children!"

"I'm afraid so John Sheppard, these are troubled time which you have managed to find. Now it is time for you to rest. You have a full shift to sleep before your next rotation, and your body will need all the advantages it can get in the coming days. I sense a heroic streak in you which is bound to cause trouble and I do hate to see my hard work go to waste, you foolish boy." Nelea smiled fondly and wandered off to tidy up her supplies.

With a quick nod, John rolled over and made himself more comfortable amid the tattered sheet, suddenly tired in the warm room. Injuries tended and a fire at his back, John found himself quickly drifting off to sleep – images of wars, prisoners, and orphaned children following him as he sank into oblivion.


	7. Chapter 7

*Disclaimer – I still don't own Atlantis or any who sail within her. This is all for fun*

Where we left off:

"With a quick nod, John rolled over and made himself more comfortable amid the tattered sheet, suddenly tired in the warm room. Injuries tended and a fire at his back, John found himself quickly drifting off to sleep"

And now back to our story.

Life in the mines was slowly eating away at John's sanity.

It just didn't make any sense. Why hadn't his team come for them? Had they been captured? Killed? Had they left him here to die? Did they think he was already dead?

Although life underground, coupled with the amount of time he was getting to spend involuntarily unconscious, was definitely messing with his internal clock, he knew he had now been stuck in the mines for days, if not weeks. He knew, his own damned moral codes and "stupidly heroic tendencies" as Carson called them, what he wouldn't give to have the angry Scot yelling at him again, were making his time in the mines harder but he couldn't help himself

How was he expected to just stand, or sit if Nelea had any say in the matter, idly by while living, breathing innocents like the little prison girl, Timeus, or Nelea herself suffered unjustly, their lives condemned to short anonymity below the surface. John winced remembering the faces which had already disappeared in his short time as a prisoner and felt a pang as he recalled a fellow minor, a man, no a boy of perhaps 15, named Lathan who had been beaten three shifts earlier. Nelea had sadly informed him just 30 minutes prior that he had succumbed to his injuries.

Curling into the corner of Nelea's cave John rested his head on his knees, wary of the injuries he was steadily accumulating and began to think back on all that had occurred since his arrest. Trying to determine where things had begun to go so wrong and how to start changing their luck.

Author's note – Please don't hit me. I'm sorry I've been away but life's been crazy. I beg your forgiveness. I moved, started school, started a new relationship, and began putting my past in the past. Not a lot of time for writing sadly. Also I'm truly torn on where this story should go. I've been running ideas past my friends and frankly they're no help as they think each idea is interesting. So, I'm going to attempt to start writing again between papers. If you have any feedback please feel free to share. Believe me it helps and may help me figure out which direction this story should take. Thanks for you patience.

River


	8. Chapter 8

See first chapter for disclaimer

.

.

.

*Previously*

Curling into the corner of Nelea's cave, John rested his head on his knees, wary of the injuries he was steadily accumulating and began to think back on all that had occurred since his arrest. Trying to determine where things had begun to go so wrong and how to start changing their luck.

After his first shift in the mines, Timeus had taken Nelea's initial request to the next level and began following John, of his own free will, whether they were on shift or not, for reasons he kept to himself. This wasn't overly surprising John considering how closely the boy kept things to himself. It was a trait that kept you alive down here.

John couldn't prove it but he swore at times he heard the kid muttering about "stupid off-worlding adults with a death wish." For now, he had decided to consider it a term of acceptance. At the moment he'd take any friends he could get.

Life in the mines was steadily growing worse for John. Much as he hated to admit it, anyone could tell his time "below" was starting to wear away at him, and this visibility was a weakness he couldn't afford if he ever wanted to return to Atlantis.

Between the mind-numbing work in the mining tunnels, the never-ending concern for the unknown status of his team, the horror of what passed for normal life around him, and the constant battle to stay one step ahead of the sadistic guards, John knew his mental state was wearing thin even compared to the usual brink of insanity Heightmeyer was constantly checking to make sure he hadn't crossed yet.

But that decline was slow in comparison to his physical health, despite Nelea's continual mothering. In addition to the injuries he had collected during his initial arrest, life in the mines had seen fit to add their own entries to his ever growing list of concerns. Cuts and scrapes were plentiful from living in the crudely hewn tunnels and caverns of the prison, muscles were straining, tearing, and spraining from the hard labour shifts that repeated in endless cycles, and then, of course, there were the effects of the guards and the prison child.

"Let me in ya silly child!" growled out a young, frustrated voice, obviously trying to come across as intimidating but failing.

"No, N'lea said to let 'im sleep" responded a small, indignant soprano.

"I don't have time for your games today let me through to see Sheppard"

Hearing the commotion from the doorway of Nelea's cavern, John shook himself out of his reverie. Looking over he saw Timeus desperately trying to enter the small room while the little prison girl was adamantly not letting him in. In a different time and place they could have passed as siblings with the little girl standing, hands on her hips, with a defiant look on her face and Timeus standing exasperatedly trying to find a way around the bothersome obstacle to his goal.

"Morning Timeus" John called over hoping to provide the boy some help getting through the door. "What's up?"

"It's time for meal shift, which this little runt knows full well. I came to make sure ye came and ate today" Timeus glared warningly at John.

John managed a careless grin back at Timeus. To be honest, he hadn't missed a single "meal" shift yet, now actually eating the food on the other hand . . .

Sharing of food between prisoners was a forbidden act in the mines. The guards and overseers wanted to make sure that those deemed and proven capable of working were able to stay that way as long as possible earning more revenue for the current monarch and more money for them to skim off the top. As for the prisoners who were unable to work, smaller rations meant simply "problems" went away more quickly. To the guards and overseers it was an efficient system.

John had already spent one night in solitary and had received five lashes on a second occasion during the meal shift for sneaking food to some of Nelea's little ones, especially the little girl who always seemed to be under foot when John wasn't in the mining tunnels of late.

Stretching his muscles slowly to protect his injured body, John eased himself off his pallet and, with a sadly much practiced grace, walked over to join the children as though he hadn't a care in the world.

The trio quickly made their way to the great room with Timeus and John joining the worker's line while the little girl went, head bent low, and waited with Nelea and the rest of those unable to do the hard labour of the mines.

She quickly perked up after the food had been distributed and John, with Timeus walking slowly behind him, came to join Nelea in the children's corner.

Nelea shook her head slowly. She was becoming very worried for her "children." John's acceptance into the group, while a welcome addition, was creating some troublesome and unanticipated complications. Much as he tried to hide it, it was obvious to her aged eyes that Timeus was starting to respect John Sheppard and more than once while she had watched the two leave for shift together she had spied Timeus, eagerly though subtly, hanging off of John's every word. She wasn't sure but she could swear the boy's hair was also becoming more intentionally unruly to match his new role model.

The little, nameless child had also become far more open in her affection for the off-worlder, and too her surprise, the obviously guarded soldier had been slowly letting the girl into his life more and more since learning of her past. Nelea felt a smile, albeit a heavy one, inadvertently grace her face as she recalled an event just two nights earlier

**~Flashback~**

John entered the little cavern which had become home with a small whimper. Nelea might actually kill him this time. Gingerly he moved over to his pallet and sank down with a relieved sigh. To think today had actually seemed like a "good" day. Shifting trying to find a comfortable position, John let out a real groan as a grim faced Nelea walked out of the adjoining room, with an unreadable Timeus resolutely standing behind her.

Hoping to avert the coming wrath, John swallowed his pride and gazed up with the biggest puppy dog eyes he could manage; an effect heightened by his bruised face and split lip and whispered "Yes Nelea?"

Face relaxing slightly, Nelea shook her head sadly muttering unintelligibly before straightening up and squaring her shoulders for the task ahead "let's take a look."

John winced as Timeus and Nelea slowly remove his shirt, which upon closer inspection was littered with tears and growing red stains throughout. When the shirt was off, Nelea let out a soft clucking noise and with a sad shake of her head muttered quietly "Oh, John, what did I tell you about that heroic streak."

John's back was a mess. The lashes he had earned sneaking food earlier that week had been reopened and still sluggishly bled free, his wrist were already bruising in the shape of hands – signs of harsh restraint during his "punishment", new welts – most likely from the overseer's crop – were littered among an array of bruises already darkening painfully, with a particularly nasty boot shaped one over John's left hip.

"Why?"

John's eye's hardened, the tension of his time in the mines bubbling over in finding the unspoken invitation of a safe place to vent. "Do you know what it's like to walk down those mines every day, knowing that in another life you could have done something, that you could have made a difference, that you could have stopped all this." John gestured painfully around the room.

"Who was it this time" Nelea seemed to age, growing pale and momentarily stopping her ministrations before quickly beginning to clean a particularly nasty lash which was refusing to stop weeping.

"I don't know the kid's name, he must be about Timeus' age though, I think he arrived after me, new to the shift at least. His only crime was that he stumbled again today, only a few times, and he dropped his load twice. He's working in the new tunnels we haven't got any real light down there yet, what do they expect him to do, None of this is right. I can't sit by and watch this happen, it's not who I am. They took the boy away, dragged him off into some tunnel, crying and begging the whole way. He never came back." John turned ashen and distant, like he was in another place and time. Suddenly he shook himself back and continued "Life in the mines, life as a prisoner, again for me this is the ultimate punishment, this is the worst fate I could image, trapped below the surface, away from the sky, not knowing if my friends, my city is safe, no escape in sight. To me this is worse than death. At least death is something, this is a damned half-life." John stopped ranting and chuckled harshly before sagging exhausted back into his pallet, silence ringing loudly in contrast to the outburst which had run its course.

Nelea continued silently about patching up the man who was becoming her most frequent patient knowing, at the moment, no words could adequately respond to the man's passionate frustration. To complete her work of healing was the only help she could bring to the heavy situation.

Nelea was worried. She'd seen men, strong like John, waste away faster than the children who survived as shadows in the mines. All that was needed was for their hope to fly away. Had John's hope left or was this simply the inevitable, righteous cry against a life of injustice that revealed no hope of a better future?

As soon as John was patched up, Nelea and Timeus helped him put his shirt in proper order which, to Nelea's surprise, Timeus had partially mended while she had worked on John. Timeus answered her questioning glance with a shrug, and to her surprise, a rare, honest half-smile.

John, for his part, embarrassed by his earlier outburst and suddenly tired from the effort of being tended too, had resettled onto his pallet and closed his eyes when instinct compelled him to curl in and put his arms out in a defensive gesture.

Five seconds later, a small, bony projectile had launched itself at John's aching midsection.

"Tell me a story John?" a small, bird-like voice trilled with glee. "Please?"

"Child! Get off of John, he's just returned from a mine shift and requires rest" Nelea chided the young girl, worried for John's injuries but unwilling to reveal his wounded nature to the young child.

"But, I've been ever so good, and his eyes were closed, so he was resting, and telling stories doesn't take much energy right?" The little girl –to John's amusement as he had fully awoken at the projectile's landing and was now watching the scene unfold – repeated the scene which had played out earlier in this very spot, only now with John being on the receiving end of the puppy-dog eyes and a slightly quivering lip.

Mustering all his courage, John looked up at the now slightly frowning older woman "It'll be alright Nelea. I think tonight we all could use a story."

"Yay! Is it a good story, with heroes like you?"

"Good . . . story? Right you're a little girl" John quickly racked his brain; this was definitely not a _Nightmare on Elm_ situation. "Have you heard the one about Snow White?"

With a shake of her head, the little girl quickly crawled over into John's lap and rested her head on his shoulder, cuddling in close for her story. To Nelea's surprise, rather than wincing with the pain he must have been feeling, John merely smiled down at his young charge and began, to her confusion, telling a story about a young girl, seven short and somewhat odd men who happened to be miners, and an evil stepmother that would have fit in well among the overseers in their own mine. Feeling no need to watch over her charges for the immediate future, Nelea left the three alone while she went to do her nightly bed checks of the other children under her care.

It was of little surprise to Nelea when she returned to find John and the child still sitting in the same position, only this time fast asleep. What was surprising, however, was the other occupant in the room. On the mattress beside John lay Timeus, curled up, lost in a world of dreams, and for the first time since Nelea had met him, looking like the ten year old he was no longer allowed to be.

**~Back to the Present~**

Since their introductions in the hours following John's internment, events such as the one a few nights earlier were happening with greater frequency and Nelea was getting frightened. Although a part of her rejoiced in the fact that her children, and she truly did see them as her own, had found some small pieces of happiness amongst the hardness they knew as life, she knew what happiness meant for the life of a prisoner.

Happiness was given so that the overseers had more leverage against you, more weapons to hurt you. The thought of her children being used against her or against each other was terrifying. She was too old to lose anything, anyone else it simply couldn't be allowed to happen! She smiled bitterly at the ridiculous and selfish thought.

To her left the three people most occupying her thoughts were sitting and quietly talking about last night's story, apparently now a nightly ritual, which seemed to have something to do with a little girl in red and three furry creatures called bears? Although they were careful not to give too much away, biting back smiles, speaking quietly, and sitting against the walls so as not to appear too much at ease they were obviously enjoying each other's company. To Nelea's dismay, she watched John slip the little girl as well as a random young boy who had come to join them some of his rations.

Therefore, it was too her great relief that the little party quickly disbanded by the announcing of another shift change. Patting the girl on the head, John and Timeus slowly joined the long line of men and boys who comprised their shift and one by one disappeared into the dark.

.

.

.

Hey y'all another post!

So exciting, thanks for sticking with me, If I can stop getting sick we'll start seeing some progress on this story again :D

Just some quick business.

If you have time please go to my profile and vote in my poll. I am really torn as to how I should end this story (there are still a few chapters to go but I need to decide soon) and your feedback would be appreciated. Second don't forget to review. Any and all reviews are helpful, even a short comment reminds me to get back to writing. Take care and until next time.


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer – still don't own them, actually still don't own anything, All belongs to MGM and all the powers that be.

The man would just not learn!

How in the world was he supposed to keep this baby-faced hormoun alive when he was constantly pulling stunts?

It was as if the gods themselves had decreed that John Sheppard must continually flaunt his mortality in their face, demanding their attention, and taunting them with his reckless survival.

Any prison child had more common sense than the Colonel, Timeus thought.

Why, oh why, had he agreed to keep the man alive?

Nelea must have caught him in a weak moment. It was the only explanation.

The shift had not gone well.

However, Timeus' frustration towards the flyer was not completely based in anger. It truth, he was beginning to worry about the older man Nelea had taken a liking too. After today's shift he was seriously starting to doubt his ability to keep John sane, let alone alive. Timeus' eyes darkened as he reflected on the past number of hours.

Stopping suddenly and turning around, Timeus let out a silent sigh of relief as he spotted John following unsteadily ten feet behind him. The man looked rough, even to Timeus' untrained eyes.

Head to toe bruising, lacerations, and contusions were an expected reality in the life of a prisoner of the mines but John's constant habit for earning beatings had merited a truly spectacular sight. Even Timeus had to refrain from wincing as Nelea tended John's wounds each night before bed.

Life on a prison diet had been no more kind. While John had always appeared slightly scrawny since his trial and subsequent sentencing to the mines, his new menu of gruel had turned scrawny into truly skeletal, having the added effect of lowered body temperature and a newly acquired blue tinge which seemed to follow the slight man when he wasn't working, despite the relative heat the dogged most of the complex.

Completing Sheppard's picture of unhealthy, Timeus could also see the older man occasionally stumble and catch the jagged passage's walls in an attempt to steady himself, constantly favouring his left side. Although he wasn't positive, Timeus wondered if the flyer's last encounter with the guards had resulted in his ribs being snapped.

But, none of this is what scared him.

No, Timeus had long since grown accustomed to the walking wounded, stumbling down the mine's dark hallways. Nor did he fear the ghost-like prisoners who faded in and out of the shadows waiting to die

What scared Timeus was anything that threatened him or Nelea and, as of now, Timeus didn't know if John was an asset, a threat, or a liability.

Timeus hated unknowns.

Seeing Sheppard stumble again catching already raw flesh as he steadied himself against the nearest wall Timeus turned around and whispered "Need help?"

John slowly looked up from his patch of floor and let out a shaky breath, fear lurking in the shadows of his eyes "No, let's get home, Nelea and the girl will be worried"

"Done."

Squaring his shoulders, Timeus turned the approaching corner and headed down the last stretch which led to Nelea's cave, never letting the man behind him out of his sight, and pondering all he had seen during their last shift.

A.N.

I'm back all! I have a working computer again. Yay!

So, here's the deal. I'm hoping smaller but more regular updates until this is finished. I think I know where we're going but may still be swayed if anyone states a strong argument. . . maybe.

Also, I'm a bit nervous as I haven't written at all since my last update and feel very, um, well to be honest I've been sitting here self-critiquing for an hour. So any comments would be appreciated as I look to get back into regular writing again. Thanks everyone who has commented and encouraged me.

You are amazing!

P.S. anyone know why my line breaks are no longer working?


	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer – still own nothing all belong to the companies, people, and lawyers who own them. Actually, I guess Nelea, Timeus, and the prisoners are mine. But that's still all I got :D

*Flashback from Timeus' POV*

Sheppard and Timeus had quickly filed into line with the rest of their shift, recognizing the futility of antagonizing their captors by being late and made their way to the new section of mine first shift had been assigned.

Without a word, each of the men, along with a few of the stronger women, picked up their tools and found themselves empty spots, hacking away at the unforgiving grey of the solid walls in front of them and hauling it away in an endless cycle of physically exhausting monotony.

Timeus had taken his spot next to Sheppard. Easier to watch over him, at least that's what he told himself, there was no way that before today he may have actually been warming up to the older man.

The work was hard and unrelenting with the workers resembling grimy shadows by shifts end due to the dust, sweat, and dirt swirling colours on their skin.

On a positive note, this section of the mine was unusually warm. Although it made the work more difficult, at least it was a change. The damp, dankness pervading the majority of the mine of late wore on a person after awhile.

Timeus remembered hearing Sheppard muttering about guards and something called air conditioning , wondering briefly if the guards did indeed have some sort of magic which allowed them to change the mine's temperatures as often as it seemed to do. That sort of indirect torture would be in line with some of the older guards tastes, sitting back and watching prisoners suffer in confusion while they laughed behind the prisoner's backs.

For awhile, Timeus had held out hope that, perhaps, today they would make it through an entire shift without Sheppard getting into trouble. After all, the guards had only been picking on a young brawler and even Sheppard agreed that the man needed to be less brash. As a result, all the workers had spent their shift in quiet exertion.

However, luck was not Timeus' friend.

Just over three quarters of the way through their shift, one of the young girls stumbled while removing the most recent load of debris away from the floor surrounding those who were hacking away at stone.

Most likely, she would have been considered pretty before her stay in the mines. Her complexion had the distinct colouring of someone one from the mountain clans. Her long black hair, a source of honour among those people, showed vague signs of its former glory despite being hidden away in a grunge covered braid and showing distinct signs of a malnutrition which had robbed its nutrients. This was her first shift with this team

The trouble of workers collapsing was a common enough problem, in Timeus' eyes. As shifts wore on, energies flagged and more "encouragements" were doled out as incentive to complete the shifts quota. It was natural for some to falter, especially those who were new to the work, this was simply a part of life and not worth wasting any of his precious resources. It wasn't that he was heartless, Timeus just knew better than to get attached.

One of the guards, a young-up-and-comer, whose name Timeus hadn't bothered to learn had given one lash of the whip to the girl's face before Sheppard had, once again, intervened. Hadn't Nelea talked to him about his heroic streak and death already?

The second stroke of the lash hit Sheppard's left shoulder but the third lash never struck, and them, instead of his usual heroic stupidity, Sheppard did something very odd.

Taking no apparent note of his surroundings, Sheppard lunged at the young girl, wrapped her in his arms and began muttering to her in soft noises, which Timeus assumed was some language he had never heard before, all the while continuing to hold her close to his chest and stroking her hair.

To anyone paying attention, Sheppard's voice sounded distressed, although Timeus didn't know why. After all, the girl had only taken one lash, true it was to the face, but she'd be fine.

Later, when Nelea asked him about the shift, he would swear, that the way Sheppard was acting, it was as though Sheppard was convinced the girl was dead. But, that was foolishness, surely Sheppard could hear the life in the girl, couldn't he?

When Sheppard had finally looked up at the guard, he had muttered something in that same strange tongue, although this time, Timeus could figure out the gist, if not the specifics of his message. Isn't it odd how curses are somehow universally recognizable? Timeus supposed it was the hate required to say them more than the sounds people noted.

Oddly enough, it was as though the guards understood Sheppard's behaviour, like they had seen it before in their lives outside the mines. Still, even he was surprised at what happened next.

With a flash of, was that understanding? No, surely some shred of humanity in the mines was impossible. The head guard called out into the tunnel.

"Prisoner Timeus" the head guard barked out.

"Yes, Sir?"

"You and Prisoner Ralah will speak with Prisoner Sheppard until he is coherent. Following that you, Prisoner Timeus, will take him to Prisoner Nelea for evaluation. If he is not able to be moved by the end of this shift, the consequences lay upon your head."

"Yes sir?" Timeus answered hesitantly.

"Do you question my orders Prisoner Timeus?"

"No sir" Timeus answered, slowly inching past the guard and closing the distance to where Ralah and Sheppard were still laying huddled on the floor.

"Oh and Prisoner Timeus."

"If you value your safety, I'd move carefully round that one" the guard responded with an unidentifiable look on his face.

"Yes sir" Timeus clipped, mask firmly back in place.

Turning back to his charge, Timeus sighed softly."Sheppard? Come on; let's see what you've done this time."

End Flashback

Timeus had talked to Sheppard for the rest of the shift but in the end it was Ralah's quiet reassurances which finally snapped Sheppard, at least visibly, out of the state.

He reflected back to his and Ralah's goodbye at the tunnel's entrance

"Thanks for the help in there. This one's special to Nelea. It's me job to keep 'im in one piece. I guess I still 'ave a ways to go on that one. You know Nelea could look at that for you after she tends this one" Timeus offered, pointing at the wound on her face.

"I will be fine. I had some training in my village as a young girl. Sheppard will need Nelea's help more" Ralah smiled softly.

"He usually does, but how did you know what to do? Can I rely on your help if it happens again?" Timeus questioned.

"Yes, I would help again. He reminds me of my father. He too had memory trips following a long skirmish with a rival clan. He often claimed his memory would carry him away from us and take him to the land of nightmares, forcing him to relieve his sins. I believe this is what happened to Sheppard.

"How did you stop it?" Timeus asked, slightly hurried, worried about the effects of "memory trips" on Sheppard and the consequences on their survival as a group.

"Death claimed him" with that, Ralah disappeared into the shadows.

Back in Atlantis

"What do you mean your hands are tied!" an aggravated Rodney shouted across the gateroom.

"Rodney, please settle down and we'll discuss this calmly in my office" a worn and weary Elizabeth pleaded.

"Why bother hiding behind closed doors Elizabeth? Everyone's worried; we all know that Sheppard's still trapped in that prison. Everyone's noticed that Ronon only leaves the gym to hunt down leads to help John. Everyone's noticed that Teyla doesn't leave her quarters. Carson's prepared sickbay so many times even he's run out of ideas on things that need to be fixed. Heck, even I may have started having too much caffeine in an attempt to brainstorm ideas to help. We're all suffering and we deserve an answer."

"You are out of line Dr. McKay," Elizabeth said in a hard but quiet voice.

"John would rather die than leave any of us behind and, yet, what have we been doing? Sitting here, twiddling our thumbs for almost three weeks while he's out there, most likely, and thinking we've forgotten all about him. In actuality, we're all sitting here waiting for the powers that be to tell us 'Sorry, we've actually decided not to give you your officer back because we're mean and, oh yeah, he's dead." Rodney ranted in frustration.

"Feel better Dr. McKay?" Elizabeth said with a pained look.

"Not really." Rodney whispered, shame at his outburst towards his already stressed friend and leader.

"Good, well know that you've finished getting that out of your system. We have gotten the official word from the planet. John will not be released until a minimum of 75% of his sentence has been completed. Apparently, any leniency would undermine the legal system."

"That's . . ."

"I'm not finished Dr. McKay." Elizabeth interjected "As I was saying, King Mabon has given his final decree . . ."

"What is this about a final decree Elizabeth?" Teyla and Ronon had turned round the corner just as Elizabeth and Rodney were about to enter her office, following the two into her office.

"King Mabon has said no to releasing John."

Teyla looked towards the floor shakily at this news while Ronon's face darkened.

"However, there is a new plan."

Three faces instantly turned towards Elizabeth.

"What I'm about to say is need to know only, understood? At the moment, not even Stargate Command is allowed to know what I'm about to tell you"

Three heads silently nodded consent.

" How do you feel about joining a local rebellion?"

A.N. Another chapter in less than 5 months! Yay, me.

Actually, Yay for you guys, especially Sheppardlover928, Astrollama, Forahr, BookEmDanno50, Dernhelm962, JoeyLuv, firefighter22, and Sherry57 for commenting on the last chapter. It meant a lot, and the last side trek to Atlantis is inspired by Sheppardlover928's request.

Next chapter we're back to Nelea and more information on a prisoner or two. Updates will come as homework allows as I'm in class next week.


	11. Chapter 11

*Disclaimer*

Still don't own them, belongs to MGM and all others who own a share.

"Set him on his mat please Timeus" Nelea softly directed, warming a pot of water over the room's central fire "Easy does it now."

Timeus shook his head, giving her a small and gentle smile while following through on her directive. "Ye always do seem to know when ye're going to be needed."

"Yes, I do, it is rather useful in watching over all of you she replied, taking the water off the fire, wiping her hands on her old apron, and turning to face the new occupants of the room. Doing a quick survey of which skills would, in fact, be needed she took a deep breath before addressing the young prisoner "Would you be able to wait in the side room in case I need your help with John's care later? I've taken the liberty of getting some rations delivered by one of the children for you already"

Timeus sighed lightly, "Of course Nelea."

He gently sat John down on his mat before walking over and, in a rare show of affection, kissed the slight, old woman on the cheek. "I could use a bit o' rest while I wait. Call if ye need me," and quickly the young man disappeared behind a threadbare curtain into the next room.

Watching Timeus disappear with a proud smile, Nelea smiled brightly before turning to her most regular patient of late "Now as for you mister."

John looked up warily, hunched into his mat, still embarrassed from his earlier display in the mining tunnels." Nelea. I . . ."

Grabbing the rest of her meagre supplies and carefully easing down beside John, Nelea raised her hand in a smooth motion. "Hush, now son. It wasn't your fault in the least." Gingerly she started peeling away the rags and dressing which covered John's torso.

"You certainly weren't the first to walk with your memories in this place and I doubt you'll be the last" Finishing the undressing, she paused to grab a clean cloth and began the growing process of cleaning and dressing John's wounds "Now, I know you aren't one for much in the way of talking, but, I've been around a few years so humour an old woman. I've seen men and women walk their memories before. The ones who returned from their memories to live with us again, they all say it helps to talk and I just happen to be noted for my ability to listen." Nelea easily said, wringing out her rag and moving to a particularly nasty gash on John's back

John hissed slightly before easing into the warm contact. "I don't talk," he muttered bluntly.

"Most of your kind generally don't from my experience." Nelea replied not bothering to look up from her work.

"My kind?"

"Military. However, I have noticed that that same group of people of a surprising tenacity when it comes to overcoming the odds and surviving great trials. It would seem, to an outside observer who cares rather deeply, that it comes down to a choice. Will you stick to what you know and is sage or will you give yourself and those whose care you've taken upon yourself the best chance of survival," Nelea paused to look John in the eye. "Can you sit up?" John gave a silent nod while mulling over Nelea's comment.

"Good, hold on a moment. Timeus would you please come and help us? Grab the broth on the table as you walk by? I would like John to try and eat something" Nelea explained as Timeus walked in.

Surveying the situation quickly, Timeus walked over and, with a practiced ease, grabbed the broth, brought it to the mat, gently helped John up, and returned to the other room without a word.

After assuring herself that John was taking the broth well Nelea continued "John, I don't ask to hurt you. I want to see you strong and as whole as possible in this God forsaken place. You have so much to offer in this life; don't let these savages strip it from you before its work is done"

"To be honest, there isn't much I'm allowed to say. According to our military it's classified information." John spoke slowly between sips of broth while Nelea finished fussing over his upper body injuries. "Don't look at me like I'm hiding, we may be kinda far away and all but there's a reason some things are classified and should stay that way" John looked at the woman carefully tending his wounds and sighed "Look, I can tell you this isn't the first time I've been someone's unwilling 'guest.' I figure between the rocks, the humidity, the small dark spaces, the hatred, I mean that's pretty standard but still, oh and the pain, cause pain just comes in different flavours" John rambled off "Sorry, I guess, when I say that girl get hit today, it was just too much."

Nelea met John's eyes knowingly "There was another little girl."

John paused in amazement before shaking his head. "Yeah, I, I didn't get to her in time. I didn't even know her name but no kid deserves that. Back there, I could of sworn that she was right there in front of me and those guards were . . ."

Worried that John may drift, Nelea firmly called him back."John? That sounds absolutely horrible and I know what it's like to watch the innocence of youth be taken before their time but, this time the story ended differently. Ralah is back in her assigned space and resting for tomorrow's shift" Nelea smiled "You have a good heart John Sheppard but you are still only a man. No one, except yourself, expects you to save the world. You would do well to remember this." Now it was John's turn to smile, though ruefully, at Nelea's words as he carefully worked on finishing the warm broth.

Nelea paused thoughtfully while working on John's legs. "You know, the girl was quite concerned with your well-being from what I've heard about today's adventure"

"Just how fast is the gossip around here," John muttered under his breath.

"Faster than you'd think, and yes, my ears still work perfectly well" Nelea smiled answering the impending question. "She brings pride and fulfillment to her name."

John noisily finished the last of his broth and looked up "What exactly does that mean? The whole bringing pride and fulfillment thing? I've heard a lot of the other prisoners muttering it after anyone does anything noticeable around here. Well, or does something completely boneheaded, though I haven't heard anyone say it about me yet, so I could be wrong"

Nelea paused painfully "I believe I told you once that the greatest insult bestowed on a prison child was the withholding of a name, correct?"

Setting his bowl down on the floor John readjusted himself to a more comfortable position. "You said a person's name was everything. A name becomes a person's identity, their family, and their heritage; in some cases even their future." John replied remembering conversations from the past.

"For our people, regardless of tribe or clan, a child's name not only anchors them within their family past and present. A name speaks towards the families hope for the future either with a blessing, a prophecy, or the recognition of a great strength within the child. For instance, within her tribe, Ralah's name means 'gentle soul.' I said that was a pride and fulfillment because through her care of you earlier she exhibited the traits of one who has a gentle and healthy soul." Nelea scanned John's face to make sure he understood. "Timeus, on the other hand, means overcomer. Again, this is an appropriate gifting by his family in light of his tendency to overcome the adversity in his life."

Nelea once again wrang out her cloth. "There we go, one more leg and you're all finished for the night and can get some rest."

John perked up at the word sleep before a new question entered his mind "What does Nelea mean?"

John watched as Nelea's face twisted into bitterness "Nelea, ha. My parents would have been wiser to choose any name other than the one which I'm forced to bear."

Honestly puzzled, John tilted his head in confusion.

Nelea sighed and finished bandaging John's leg in silence, collecting her thoughts.

"I'm sorry. Once upon a time, this name was a joy to carry but it is meant for someone who leads a far different life, someone with a future. You see, my name means hope and that is why it is such a heavy burden. My entire punishment in these mines, the irony of my sentence is to live in a place where my promise only exists in death." Nelea lowered her head in sorrow.

Moving as gently as he could John reached over and touched Nelea's face, easily directing it so he was, once again, looking into the woman's eyes "I think it's perfect." John answered softly. "Without you this place would be hopeless but you bring hope to all who meet you. You keep me alive. It can't be your fate to live a life without hope, I can't believe that. I'm going to get us out of here. I've been planning. I mean, I had hoped my team would have been here to help by now but, I know them, something serious has to have held them up to be away this long, so know it's up to us. Between my experience and Timeus' knowledge of the mines we've got a decent shot at this. I know it."

"Oh, John." Nelea said wistfully.

"I mean it, we are not finished. Oh, and I know you're there so you may as well come out little one and see for yourself I'm no worse for wear."

Out of the shadows a small child gingerly made her way into the middle of the room before launching herself wild eyed at John's mat, checking each inch of bandaging for herself before believing that John was, in fact, okay.

"Now, Nelea, I know you're going to order me off to sleep but, first, I've been talking with a few of my shift workers and, given our talk I think now is the time. " John stopped, thought a moment and turned seriously towards Nelea. "Believe me when I say, I know what I'm getting into. I've thought it out, and I'm in this for the _long_ term, okay?" Nelea nodded her assent as John turned to the child in front of him "Little one?"

The child stopped her fiddling with the bandages on the mat and looked up questioningly at John.

"I know nothing's really easy around here and life's been pretty rough but I meant what I said. I'm going to get us out of here. One way or another."

Nelea gasped at the remark remembering the many who had left too early through the prison's furnaces.

John, undeterred, continued "but regardless of what the future holds. Little one, would you do me the honour of accepting the name Amanda" John paused suddenly to take a breath and glance towards the women on his right. "Nelea Shepard from me and all that that name brings with it?" John exhaled and studied the child in front of him.

The young girl's forehead creased as she considered what John had said before suddenly widening in realisation at the significance of what was being offered. "For real? You really want me?" The little girl's voice cracked with an unidentifiable emotion.

"If you'll have me. I promise to watch over you, care for you, and do what's right by you for as long as we're both alive."

Without another word, the little girl launched her small, trembling frame at John wrapping her arms around his neck and holding on for dear life.

"I have a name?" she whispered.

"My mother's" John whispered loudly so Nelea, still watching with quiet, though wary acceptance of the scene unfolding before her.

"Where I'm from the name means 'beloved.'" Seeing the question sitting in her eyes John answered the unspoken query. "Beloved means loved lots, something that you most definitely are. Nelea comes from this world. You little one are a promise of hope and love." John said rubbing circles into the emotionally overwhelmed girl's back, the room descending into silence.

"Well, that's mighty pretty." Timeus quipped suddenly, appearing around the curtained doorway and disturbing the scene before him. "Don't worry none, before you ask, I've been 'ere long enough to stand witness to your claiming on the kid. If you're serious about getting out of here though, you're right, you're going to need my help."

"I know." John answered quietly, not wanting to disturb Amanda.

"You gotta know, if you're serious about keeping her safe, this has gotta happen soon." Timeus pressed on.

"I know." John replied more firmly.

"You're going to take Nelea too?" Timeus questioned not bothering to look the woman, who'd yet to have spoken, in the eyes.

"That's the plan," John confirmed.

"Your people going to help get us out?"

"I don't know" John answered as Amanda's wriggled to better watch what was going on.

"You always have been an honest one." Timeus muttered, half under his breath. "You realise the consequences if we're caught"

Slightly frustrated, John replied " I kno . . ."

Timeus smiled interrupting John mid-word, " Just checking, needing and happy to confirm there's still a fighter in there after earlier. Though, I warn you now, still goin' to be watchin' you." Timeus looked at John pointedly. Then, rubbing his hands together turned around and sat down beside John on his mat "Let's make a plan."

A.N. New chapter! For those that wanted less whump and more comfort and cuteness hope this tides you over. After taking in the poll results I have decided the final fate of the characters and will work towards finishing the last chapters as time allows. Please review, they really do encourage us writers to update when we see them pop up in our inbox :D


	12. Chapter 12

Disclaimer * see chapter one*

Seven weeks.

It had been seven weeks since the "trial" and that was in local time. Quickly making the calculations in his head, Rodney came to the painful realisation that John Sheppard, the closest thing he possessed to a brother, had been trapped in an alien prison for almost eleven weeks, waiting for a rescue that hadn't come.

It was more than Rodney could stand, not that he would admit it to anyone. Actually not that any of the Lantean team would admit the prevailing sense of failure that accompanied their attempts, legal and questionable, that had been underway to retrieve their lost teammate. However, even to someone as emotionally dense as himself, the pain was palpable.

Rodney closed his eyes against an oncoming headache.

"Mister McKay?" a young, though roughened voice asked, almost becoming lost in a swirling gust of wind.

"Doctor McKay," Rodney replied barely bothering to shake himself out of his ever spiralling thoughts while correcting

. . .

Actually, he had no idea who he was correcting. Slowly shaking himself out of his thoughts, Rodney looked over and saw a young teenage boy, dressed in rags, and patiently awaiting the Doctor's attention.

Teenagers?

Where on earth?

Oh yes, the rebels.

SGA-1, SGA-2 (now healed from their itchy encounter), SGA-6, and SGA-12 had all responded to Elizabeth's call for volunteers and now found themselves along with a scattering of scientists and med staff occupying a rebel base not more than an hour from where John was currently imprisoned below the surface.

Although each member of the volunteer task force were anxious to recover their lost leader, they were all too aware of the gravity which surrounded their current mission. After all, Stargate wasn't exactly known for encouraging expeditions in joining local rebellions and overthrowing governments to recover lost expedition members. Not that this deterred any of them, after all, John would do it for them, he deserved the same loyalty in return.

"Dr. McKay" the same voice corrected with, was that a slight hint of annoyance, certainly the little cretin couldn't actually be annoyed with him, Rodney thought incredulously.

Ronon, who had been sitting in the corner of their tent preparing his knives for the oncoming assault snorted "Answer the kid McKay. Today if possible."

"Of course" Rodney looked over to Ronon and straightened himself out and looking uncomfortable as he addressed the rebel teen. "What is it that you want?" Rodney answered gruffly.

Ronon actually snickered despite himself at the doctor's obvious discomfort and wondered briefly if Sheppard's joking remark during a team night before his capture had been correct and McKay was afraid of re-experiencing puberty through proximity.

"The others are waiting for you in the main tent. They wish to begin the meeting" The young boy responded in harshly accented English, sparing a quick grin for Ronon in the corner before resuming the blank mask the majority of the rebels seemed to hide behind.

"Of course they're waiting for me. I'm far too valuable to . . ." Rodney huffed out before softening slightly at the youth before him, who's hair, having been caught by the most recent blast of hair now reminded him of their lost colonel. " I mean, well, Which way to the main tent" Rodney sighed in exasperation.

Without a word, the youth acknowledged McKay's assent and turned, leading him across the barren yet bustling camp.

Rodney was taken aback at the similarities between the foreign landscape before him and certain hostile locations back on earth. The barren desert surrounding them, the blistering sun, the . . . It was no wonder John hadn't wanted to come here. Rodney silently wondered how many of his teammates were experiencing a sense of déjà vu. I mean, he hadn't actually been overseas, so if he could feel it, how much stronger would it be for someone who had actually experienced that life?

Shielding himself from the sandblasting wind and blinding sun, Rodney sighed in relief to see the tent a mere 50 feet before him. Doubling his pace, Rodney rushed past his guide entered the tent with relief, blinking his eyes furiously in relief at the welcoming dark of its walls.

When Rodney's eyes had adjusted he allowed himself the luxury of surveying his new surroundings. The tent itself was nothing spectacular, musty from years of use, it's served its purpose well keeping the elements out and its inhabitants protected. Sparsely furnished, the tent contained a large table upon which maps, diagrams, and recent surveys were scattered, a few pallets upon which scattered naps were stolen, random piles of provisions, and the odd improvised research station which still possessed a tired looking Zelenka furiously examining data.

To Rodney's right, Teyla stood eagerly exploring options with a short, young woman McKay recognized as the rebellions second-in-command, Nika. A young woman of 19, Nika bore the posture of one with far more than her 19 years. To his surprise, Rodney remembered her mentioning she was from one of the plains clans, a group which had been decimated when Mabon had taken power. The few of her people to survive had eagerly spread themselves throughout the rebel camps and were driven in their quest to avenge their fallen.

Elizabeth, for her part, was deep in conversation with the rebel leader Krial. Noting Rodney's arrival she nodded in acknowledgment as he, and moments later Ronon, entered the tent.

Recognizing everyone's presence, Krial ended his conversation, strode to the table and began " With the help of your scientists" Krial nodded towards Zelenka who was still furiously going over his computer "we believe we have found a viable way into the mines."

"This is good news and yet I hear a but in your tone" Elizabeth answered hesitantly.

Nika nodded, her long braid swaying with the movement "Yes, although the way is viable, it does not make the job less tricky. Your scientists and our scouts have found three separate access points which appear to be from when the mine was first opened and since abandoned." Nika pointed out the locations on the map before them.

"Well we knew it wasn't simple or we would have been able to get our man out weeks ago" McKay interjected, gesturing frustratedly at the map.

With a steadying sigh to marshal her patient with the eccentric doctor, Nika continued, wisely ignoring Mckay "The tunnels are closed off, most likely intentionally at first, although their access has been further blocked by years of desert weather. They can't give us direct access into the mines. However, after discussing it with you teams, they believe that the, um," Nika stumbled for the right word "explosives?"

Elizabeth nodded encouragingly to the woman.

"Yes, the explosives."Nika continued "It is their opinion that explosives, carefully placed would easily solve our accessibility and provide access to tunnel offshoots here, here, and here" pointing out locations as she spoke.

"I believe I understand" Teyla acknowledged, hope beginning to lighten her eyes. "You intend to launch a three sided assault upon the prison, overwhelm them with a strong offence to prevent additional loss of life?"

"Exactly," Krial replied, gracing Teyla with a rare smile, making him appearing far closer to his twenty-six years than he normally appeared. "Our hope is that the prisoners who are physically and mentally able will join with us and allow us to overwhelm the guards with greater ease. Their participation is not necessary, however, as little resistance is expected." Krial quieted while reflecting. "There hasn't been a successful escape in my memory. The guards are skilled at keeping people in, which is why we cannot count on the prisoners' assistance, but they have little practice at keeping us out."

"What about the potential for casualties?" Rodney asked, intently examining the map and plans before him. "Explosions can be rather tricky, even if you are trained to handle as our teams obviously are. If anyone were in the adjoining tunnels when the blasts went off . . ."

"Our intelligence informs us that these tunnels are no longer in use, perhaps due to the relatively close proximity to the outer tunnels. The odds of anyone being there is small and to be honest well worth the risk given the alternative, "Nika interrupted.

Rodney hesitated slightly before turning back to the maps again, silence echoing throughout the tent.

Sensing the moment, Krial spoke up "this is our plan of action, we move with or without your support. Are you with us or not?"

Making a quick survey of the room Rodney's pensive studying, Teyla's silent support, Zelenka's discomfort at the tension, and Ronon's obvious approval of Krial Elizabeth met Krial with grave assurance of her words "we're in."

A.N. Okay, so this was not where I was going tonight but at the urging of a RL friend who's been reading I realised this is where the story wanted to go and I was okay with that.

So, in honour of her hard work today for school, early update for everyone!

The next chapter will have us back with the mines so stay tuned and remember reviews, comments, questions, and plot theories (especially the last two) are wonderful reminders for writers to get their butts in gear and update. So, if you have a few minutes click the button and send me a line to let me know you're still out there.

For those who have been reviewing you seriously make my week, especially during the craziness of school and wedding planning. You guys rock!


	13. Chapter 13

Disclaimer * see chapter 1*

~ Back in Nelea's cavern~

"If we 'as any 'ope of surviving, and by we, I mean all of us. We'd best get a plan together quick." Timeus said, observing John who was quietly resting while Nelea contentedly sat braiding Amanda's hair while in the next room, carefully out of earshot.

"I agree. You're a smart kid, observant. You come up with anything since you've got here?" John responded, wincing slightly as one of his many injuries caught against itself while he shifted to a more comfortable position.

"I may have" Timeus responded, still wary of the man before him.

John, sensing Timeus' hesitancy, weighed his options, though Timeus was young he was experienced and John needed his help. "Look, we're on the same side." Timeus narrowed his eyes but allowed John to continue. "We both want to get them out safely and, if possible, save ourselves too. I get that you don't trust people in general and me even less. However, it's going to take something near certifiable to get us out of here and that requires at least a bit of trust. I'm willing if you are" John said, easing his words with a wry grin.

"Certifiable?" Timeus queried face twisting in confusion.

"Sorry, it's a saying from my home world. It means really crazy," John answered sheepishly.

"Ah," Timeus acknowledged, still slightly confused but accepting John's answer. Weighing the older man's words carefully, Timeus slowly began "There could be . . . somethin' I've thought of. It'd be certifiable though" Timeus said, tasting the new word slowly as though making sure it worked properly.

John smiled encouragingly at his new partner "Sounds just like what we're looking for, care to elaborate a bit?"

Gathering courage fro John's acceptance, Timeus continued in a stronger, though quiet voice "The old tunnels. No one works 'em anymore. Guards say they's old and not worth working but I got up there once. The problem ain't age, the problem is depth, they's shallow and by the sound of it shallow enough that a good shift and enough workers you could break through." Timeus said, a hint of excitement beginning to creep into his voice.

"Shallow?" Now it was John's turn to be confused.

"A bit of diggin' and we'd be somewhere else. Only thing I can figure is they'd be the old guide tunnels, mentioned in the myths floating around this place. I met some miners from a mountain clan once and they said the same thing, you dig guide tunnels first, they'd go all the way up. A little digging and we'd have our way out." Timeus finished with a slight grin, reminding John just how young his co-conspirator actually was.

"So, why haven't you tried before? If the plan's so straightforward" John asked curiously, concerned at what the obviously self-sufficient boy was concealing.

Hanging his head down, Timeus muttered "Couldn't get the girls out alone." Timeus frowned fiercely "I couldn't leave 'em, can't go without 'em, can't keep 'em alive stayin'. Great place to be, eh?"

John softened at the visible, though only briefly so, vulnerability the boy showed at the mentioning of Nelea's name.

"Alright, well, let's figure out how we're going to pull off the impossible" John answered spryly, pushing away the dark mood and doubt which threatened to overwhelm the room. Rubbing his hands together gamely John looked at his partner "Tell me everything you know about the tunnels."

John had to give him credit, Timeus had actually put some thought into his scheme and, unbeknownst to anyone, had already began setting himself up to carry it out. John was impressed at his initiative.

Following a long conversation, John had come to find out that Timeus had not only staked out potential supporters for his plan, a necessity given the physical strength the scheme required, but had also gathered significant information on the guards' patterns in that area of the mine, and had already managed to relocate supplies for digging into their potential work area.

Their hare-brained scheme had upgraded into the realm of half-baked and fool-hardy and while still improbable it was no longer the guaranteed suicide run it had appeared an hour earlier.

Both conspirators had quickly agreed the best time to attempt their escape would be immediately after first shift. Timeus' reasoning that the crowds of people moving to and from the active tunnels combined with their not needing to check in for the remainder of the day would camouflage their escape had impressed John greatly. Add that to the fact that most of the supporters Timeus had identified were in the first shift and a simultaneous guard change rounding out the confusion, John was growing more hopeful regarding, at the very least, having the girls achieve the freedom they deserved.

In light of John's declining health and Timeus' grudging realisation that John was necessary if, for nothing else, to convince Nelea to leave the mines, they decided that their attempt would take in a mere eight shifts. John reasoned that even with Timeus' prior planning giving them an unexpected edge, the extra time would give them the chance to tie up any remaining loose ends. John wasn't foolish enough to think they would get more than one chance if they failed.

John had to admit, for what it was worth, Timeus had truly made an effort to treat John more as an ally than foe over the next two days. Though John still caught the young boy watching him furtively, anxiously waiting to see if John would, once again, become lost within the recesses of his mind, they were still able to contact all of their allies, including the young woman Ralah whom John refused to leave behind.

As Timeus had guessed, Nelea had been initially hesitant to take such a risky course of action. After a bit of reasoning and, perhaps, even pleading on the part of John regarding her and Amanda's safety, Nelea had agreed to participate in the venture, though she had taken to muttering sadly about "wasted lives" and "foolhardy boys" under her breath.

Interestingly enough, the only person in danger of giving away their plans was John himself. Following one and a half shifts of good behaviour, the guards were beginning to get curious about what had changed their previously unruly charge's attitude.

To be honest, John was actually beginning to think behaving was the only thing he had enough energy left to do. Like it or not, he knew if he didn't make it out in today's attempt, the odds of surviving long enough to regret the fullness of his failure was unlikely. While he had hidden it from Nelea and Timeus, John easily recognized the signs of infection settling in to his ravaged body. Without antibiotics and the tender care of everyone's favourite grumpy Scot, John knew his chances were dwindling fast.

Resolutely pushing such thoughts from his mind, John focused back towards the rock in front of him, chipping away at the unyielding wall, while trying to conserve as much energy as possible.

"Ya could make an insult or somethin' you know" Timeus whispered, echoing John's own suspicions that his good behaviour was more jarring than his normal rebellion. "You behavin' is unnatural."

"Sorry kid. Guess our hosts' sparkling personality has finally rubbed off on me" John replied wearily, sweat gleaming against his pale skin.

"You okay?" Timeus said, sizing up the older man for the first time that day in earnest.

"I'll be fine"

"Wasn't me question" the boy persisted.

"Look." John was cut off by the sound of a loud whistle echoing through the caverns. Smiling at the interruption, John switched topics. "We have more important things to talk about than me."

Timeus paused before nodding in agreement. "Let's go."

The two easily fell into line with the rest of their shift-mates, filing out of the tunnel and making their way back to Nelea's cavern.

Timeus had barely moved to pull back the covering on Nelea's door when the tattered fabric was pulled aside revealing a gravely focused Ralah, Nelea, and Amanda. How Ralah had made it before them John was at a loss, the woman was good at what she did though and John was relieved to see her face though he couldn't afford to show it.

"Ready?" John asked, the nature of their urgency not allowing the space for pleasantries.

Timeus stopped at the tone in John's voice, respect momentarily flashing in the young boy's eyes. Although his physical presence spoke against it, the tone of John's voice and the set of his eyes instantly reminded Timeus that the battered skeleton behind him was in fact a trained solider.

The women nodded their assent. Nelea grabbed Amanda's hand and the five began their silent trek to Timeus' abandoned mine shaft.

As hoped, their trek went relatively unnoticed amidst the regular traffic of shift changes. Still, John found himself unconsciously holding his breath until they were safely passed the last guard station and had completed the entire journey through the tight, ever dimming mine shafts which lead to Timeus' tunnel.

Just before turning the last corner, John was caught off guard to hear the sound of metal rhythmically hitting rock ahead of him, shrouded within the darkness.

As they closed in on the end of their journey, John was relieved to see seven other prisoners determinedly chipping away at the rock which surrounded the farthest end of the tunnel. Apparently, John rued to himself, his injuries had slowed their travel more than he had originally thought.

"How do you want to play this Sheppard?" Timeus asked focusing on the task at hand; even as the last handful of prisoners trickled in behind them to join the motley crew.

"Here's my theory," John replied slowly, hoping to disguise the weariness in his voice, while weighing each word carefully before revealing the full extent of his weakness to those before him. "With the exception of the girls and myself, we have enough tools and more than enough need to keep everyone we can up working the tunnel."

"Sounds right," Timeus agreed appreciatively, noting Sheppard's willingness to voice his own weakness to help the group.

"Those who can work will continue to work. The girls" John nodded to Nelea and Amanda "can wait up there." John gestured to a rocky alcove halfway up the tunnel. "It's out of the way but still keeps you two protected, for our peace of mind" John ordered in a tone that brokered no argument, stilling the complaints which inevitably wanted to follow.

"What about you Sheppard? I'll be honest, we ain't wanting to leave ya, but you look like hell," Timeus blunted asked the obvious. John did look like hell, skin now chalky white beneath the multicoloured rainbow, spoke of battered flesh and broken capillaries amidst other damage yet to be admitted by the stubborn Colonel. By now, the hidden infection had also spawned a growing fever adding a noticeable gleam in John's eyes and flesh even amidst the dim atmosphere of the abandoned tunnel. Wheezing breaths and racking coughing rounded out the picture of a man in need of help.

"I'll stand at the end of the corridor" John replied grabbing one of the broken pick axes lying beside him. "If anyone comes our way, I can at least give us a few seconds to prepare for them, it could make a difference."

With a wisdom that once again surpassed his years, Timeus easily agreed to John's plan, recognizing the man's need to be useful.

John walked over and gave Nelea a quick hug only to have to brace himself as the older woman grabbed him with a strength he didn't know she possessed and whispered "hero's are allowed to live too you know, do anything stupid and I will personally come and make you regret it."

Smiling wryly at her affection, John walked over and gave Amanda a kiss on the forehead before allowing Nelea to lead the two of them up the dim shaft towards the alcove John had pointed out moments before. Timeus followed the women silently, noting in approval as Ralah easily grabbed an axe and began hacking away at the unforgiving rock with a passion previously unseen, and giving a silent thanks when Nelea and Amanda quietly settled themselves down to wait in the protecting embrace of the rocky nook. When he was satisfied they would be okay, Timeus wordlessly pick up his own axe and joined the chorus at the tunnel's end.

John settled himself down to "contribute" the only way he could. Although he doubted he could actually stop a guard if they ventured upon the party of escaping prisoners, John could still hope that a few seconds warning could create enough warning for Nelea and Amanda to slip through the confusion to the "safety" of the mine.

Actually, compared to the rest of his time in these claustrophobic walls, it seemed downright peaceful sitting here: the steady ring of axes seeking to lead their wielders to freedom, the ability to work at your own pace without fear of a stinging whip or a vicious fist. It was astonishing what the smallest ray of hope could do for an atmosphere.

Relaxing slightly against the wall to conserve energy, John could almost picture being surrounded by his team on an away mission. He winced briefly at the thought of his long absent friends and spared a quick moment to hope that, wherever they were, they were okay, or at least in better shape than he was, John thought ruefully as a painful cough rattled through his chest.

Surrounded by the steady ring of axes and the relative peace which filled the tunnel despite the desperation of their situation, John could very well have found himself drifting off into much needed rest, despite his overwhelming desire to protect the people he had volunteered to watch over.

Yes, it would have been easy to give into the raging battle, warring beneath his skin until John realised faintly as he flew through the air, dust clogging his lungs, ringing clanging in his ears, dirt and stone clattering around him, and the sounds of guards shouting as the rushed towards his location, that something had gone terribly wrong.


	14. Chapter 14

*Disclaimer* see chapter 1

Thanks for all who reviewed, virtual cookies to you all (they're fresh too). Now back to our story.

...

. . .

...

Chaos.

It was the only word capable of describing the horrific scene now unfolding before John's eyes.

Painfully, John attempted to clear the mineral heavy dust from his lungs, ribs painfully burning in response to the jarring motions threatening to render him unconscious.

Hands, reaching down roughly, grabbed him without discretion, hauling John mercilessly to his feet, yelling words that were still indiscernible given the images currently burning themselves into his memory.

The tunnel, only moments ago a haven filled with promise and hope, was now a caved-in pile of ruinous rocks and dust. Only the echoes reverberating in John's skull remained in the face of the silent, jagged wall that now stood where the tunnel and its inhabitants had stood mere moments before. John barely managed to stop himself from comparing the image to that of a sealed off tomb.

Ralah.

Timeus.

Nelea.

Amanda.

Had any of them survived?

Were they trapped beneath or behind the seemingly impenetrable wall?

Were they merely scared or had they been injured?

Or, were his friends laying there mere feet away dying in a readymade grave? Were they already gone?

A harsh voice yelled into John's ear, shaking him from his morbid thoughts "How many of you were up here?"

John weighed the guards words carefully, awareness seeping back into his senses. Looking over at the guard who was roughly holding him upright, John recognized him as being Larry, the guard who had initially escorted him into this pleasant little patch of hell.

"Think John, there's something important in that question." John thought silently to himself, recognizing the urgency of his awaited response.

How many? That means the guards didn't actually know how many people had been here with him at the time of the cave-in. John knew that the guards had one of two options. Either they would leave the prisoners trapped beneath the rubble, citing too many resources required to mount a rescue chasing damaged goods, or, they would pull his people out of the rock only for them to face a slow and excruciating death that would serve as an example to the rest of the populace.

Frantically running through the options in his mind, John cursed the illness that hindered his normally quick response.

Sensing John's hesitation, the guard asked again this time adding a rough shove to John's chest "How many of you were there?"

"None, I came up here alone," John whispered, shoulders slumping in despair, hoping against all hope that he had chosen the most human option.

"Alone?" Larry asked eyes narrowing as he took in John's physical state. "What's a walking corpse like you doing up here alone."

John remained silent.

"No matter, you'll get all the 'alone' time you were looking for soon enough" Larry laughed amused at some unspoken joke he seemed to relate to John's situation.

...

. . .

. . .

"What the hell just happened," Elizabeth Weir's voice cleanly cut through the dust and dirt now swirling through their midst.

"We think we may have a theory" Major Lorne responded, looking displeased as their carefully planned rescue mission merrily unravelled at their feet.

"Well let's hear it then," Elizabeth replied brusquely, stepping around a pile of debris to examine a hastily set up workstation processing data from the scene.

Dr. Zelenka, looking up at Weir's arrival to where he had been frantically analyzing data, took a deep breath at her and began. "During the planning stages of this mission, our scouts detected mineral veins here and here" Radek recalled, voice slipping into a heavier Czech accent. "It was fairly standard data, aside from an unexplained limiting effect on our scans, being an unfamiliar environment we weren't particularly concerned as the reading weren't anything our explosives haven't handled in the past."

"I'm sensing a but Doctor." Weir urged.

"We knew from the beginning of our mission that this planet possessed unique resources, hence command's great interest in our establishing trade here. It would appear from our initial understanding of the data coming in that the material we assumed would be a harmless compound beneficial for producing equipment actually possesses a unique molecular structure that makes it highly volatile when an explosive element such as C4 is introduced to its environment." Zelenka slumped helplessly, frustrated at his own inability to have predicted these unpredictable events.

Elizabeth's eyes widened in response to Radek's theory. "Major Lorne, please Co-ordinate with Krial and Teyla's team at site one as well as Ronon and Nika's team at site three. We need to avoid a repeat if this compound is also present at their locations. Our goal is to avoid loss of life."

"Yes, Dr. Weir" Major Lorne responded before turning to co-ordinate with the other teams.

"Oh, Major."

"Yes, Doctor?"

"Please inform the other teams that we'll be a bit late to the party as well and to adjust plans accordingly." Elizabeth added.

"Of course, Doctor. I'll also make sure the medical teams are informed so that they can adjust as well." Major Lorne replied, disappearing into the chaos of the tunnel.

Elizabeth took a steadying breath, surveying everyone around her. With a note of relief she allowed herself a few seconds to reflect upon the skill and dedication of her team. Wherever she looked, Elizabeth saw her people diving into their work, using efficient movements and already finding new ways to pull off miracles she didn't fully understand.

Turning back to Zelenka, Elizabeth continued, "all right then, we have a theory on why this happened and that's a good start Radek. But it's only a start" Elizabeth said gently. "What can we salvage, realistically can we clear things up here or should we be sending reinforcements to the other two teams?"

"Ah, I'm afraid that's where things get . . . um . . . interesting once again." Zelenka hesitated fumbling over his English, momentarily redirecting his gaze towards the tunnel floor.

Suddenly, Elizabeth heard a low, frustrated growl come from Dr. McKay who had continued to examine the data during Zelenka's briefing.

"Yes, Rodney" Elizabeth queried, eyebrows raised.

"To put it bluntly, Radek is right, much as that pains me to admit. We can easily clear the rubble and serve as a third wave for the retrieval mission but to do so complicates things severely." Rodney stated, still muttering to himself under his breath and waving his hands about in frustration.

"Focus Rodney, I need details to make a decision." Elizabeth asked slowly, willing herself patient with the agitated genius.

Rodney stopped at the tone in Elizabeth's voice "I'm sorry Elizabeth, I just. . ."

Elizabeth softened "I know Rodney, me too, so let's do everything we can to get him back. Okay? Now what's this about a complication?"

Rodney narrowed his in concentration as a new burst of data appeared on the screen beside him. "Right then, essentially the blast made a big mess of the area but the surrounding walls are amazingly secure structurally. I wouldn't doubt there may be some molecular abnormalities we can thank for that as well and may also explain the heavy use of mining in this area. Without modern explosives, cave-ins would be reasonable within risk." Rodney responded trailing off slightly at the mystery before him. "Anyway, as you can see, teams are already beginning to clear away the rubble attempting to get us to this larger area now appearing on our scans. The problem is this little bubble here." Rodney pointed to a small discrepancy on the scan.

"What is that Rodney?" Elizabeth asked, face drawn in concentration.

"Unfortunately, we weren't the only ones caught off guard by our ill-times blast. With the new readings we're getting without the mineral's interference we're reading multiple life signs trapped in that space."

"Prisoners?"

Radek interjected "Yes, apparently we interrupted an escape attempt; there is still enough residual effect of the mineral that we are unable to get an exact number of life signs but they are showing significant signs of distress and the weakening signal may even indicate a death has already occurred while we were looking for additional seismic readings."

"So let me get this straight" Elizabeth said slowly, the horror of the trapped prisoners' situation sinking in. "If we decide to go after them, we may potentially save some before they suffocate or succumb to any injuries the received in the blast. However, to do so, means we have no chance of helping with the mission?"

"That's essentially it Elizabeth, the teams need a decision quickly though. We're in no danger of another cave-in, especially with the supports the teams have been placing as they've been clearing away rubble but time is, well, of the essence." Rodney replied, refining search parameters on the laptop which had been beeping quietly throughout their talk.

"If I may interject" Radek quietly voiced.

"Yes, Radek" Elizabeth responded.

"Another piece of data to consider is the possibility of Colonel Sheppard's presence among those trapped. Our Colonel is not the type to sit idly by while such an attempt is underway." Zelenka said thoughtfully.

"I've already considered that option," Elizabeth acknowledged before turning around to where Major Lorne had just entered. "Major Lorne, I need you to inform the other teams we will not be joining them in the assault on the prison, rather we've been re-directed by a new priority situation here. Our hope is to reconnect when the threat here has been dealt with."

"Yes ma'am" Lorne responded with a nod.

"Radek, Rodney keep me apprised of the situation as it unfolds, I'll contact Atlantis and get additional medical personnel planet side to deal with any survivors we recover."

Acknowledging her orders, the scientists spared each other a quick look before diving back into the fray behind them.

...

. . .

...

John refused to look up as the guards half marched, half dragged him down the large space which functioned as a mess hall. Unlike normal days where prisoners stood waiting to receive their daily portion of slop, today the prisoners stood assembled in ranks surrounding a raised dais which had been placed in the center of the room. When John did look up, he wasn't completely surprised to see the entire upper walkways around the top half of the room covered in heavily armed guards, encouraging the prisoners' complete cooperation.

John was beyond tired. He'd been exhausted for weeks, fighting through injury, malnourishment, long hours, illness, and the mental pain of worrying about his team and what had happened to them. The thought of Amanda and Nelea laying crushed under the earth was the last straw. John felt himself drowning in a weariness he hadn't known he was capable of feeling.

Questions raced through his fevered mind.

Had they suffered?

Were they still suffering?

Had he made the right decision in keeping their presence hidden or had he signed their death warrants in his denial?

Was it possible that they were simply stuck in a hole on the other side, all in one piece and still steadily working towards freedom, their path now completely secure?

Although the last one provided John a modicum of piece, even in this state John had trouble believing the probability of the last scenario playing out.

Finally, Larry and another guard John did not recognize threw John to his knees at the top of the platform he had spotted earlier. Wasting no words, the guards proceeded to silently restrain him so that he was in plain view of the room's occupants. John fought back a half-crazed laugh as he realised the restraints would, most likely, be more effective at holding him upright than stopping any escape attempt.

John recalled their journey through the mines. Usually the walk would take about 20 minutes, though he was sure this trip had been at least 30. An escape attempt reflected badly on the guards and, if John understood the system correctly, could have cost the guards their jobs or worse if he had been unaccounted for too much time. Add to that the hope John could still see painfully evident on the few faces of fellow prisoners he dared to look at. No, the guards would have no problem taking out their anger on his broken body and crushing any future danger the small infusion of hope had created.

Larry, moving confidently to John's right, startled him out of his thoughts as he loudly addressed the gathered crowd. "Prisoners, some of you may witness the man before you, hear of his actions, and foolishly believe that if you band together, you too may find a life outside of these walls before you've redeemed your worthless lives and earned the privilege of living among your betters." Larry paused to sneer at the crowd. "However, it is our duty to remind you of the consequences awaiting those who would even presume to dream of rising above your station." Larry's sneer shifted into a cruel grin. "Therefore, to serve as a reminder of you station and your future, our beloved warden has decided that prisoner 47874 will die at the post to which he is now fastened, whipped until he breaths his last."

John was surprised to hear muffled sounds of outrage emerge from the normal docile crowd, before the shifting of weapons from above restored their previously enforced silence.

Following the silencing of the crowds, Larry centered himself behind John, taking a whip from the other guard who had escorted John to his current predicament and was now standing silently to the other side of the stage.

John winced internally at the thought of the whip, feeling it pass to Larry behind him. His time in the tunnels meant he was familiar with the instrument and had felt its mark for quick remarks when the guards were patient enough to wait for something less instantaneous than their fist. In this case, familiarity was not a helpful thing. Of all the ways to go, being whipped to death was not on John's top ten for possibilities.

Recognizing the little time he had left, John allowed his mind to drift to the things he loved, the feeling of flying, turkey sandwiches with his mother, his team, no, his family. He regretted not knowing if they were alright for only seconds when the sound of whistling leather slicing through the air towards his back startled John out of his reprieve.

John's eyes greyed with pain as the lash made contact through his back. If nothing else, at least it didn't appear he'd be conscious of his suffering for very long, John thought resignedly.

Bracing himself for the next hit and wondering just how long his body would hold onto its tenuous grip on reality. John was surprised as the now familiar sensation of dust, ringing, and scattered yells filled his senses once again.

"You've got to be kidding me" John thought as he mercifully passed out, oblivious to the chaos now filling the room.

...

. . .

...

A.N. Three updates in three days! Updates will be a little slower as I have a paper that really needs attention but still. I'm giving me a hug for this one.

Also sending out big hugs to JoeyLuv, BMick, Sherry57, sheppardlover928, and firefighter22 for reviewing!


	15. Chapter 15

Disclaimer – See chapter 1

...

..

...

Ronon was not impressed.

Shaking the dust from his dreadlocks and peering through the fog still settling in the dark space before him. Okay, to be honest, he was slightly impressed.

Stepping through the large hole where solid rock used to form an impenetrable wall Ronon was, once again struck by the power of the technology the Lantean's had at the disposal. In fact, while thankfully smaller than the blast Major Lorne had just reported, the 12 foot, jagged gap which had been accentuated by minute traces of a foreign material that McKay was apparently now researching had double the originally estimated blast radius.

If that's what minute traces did, Ronon could just imagine what the other team was currently dealing with.

So yes, Ronon was slightly impressed but he was nowhere near happy. Lucky for him he was surrounded by people of a similar disposition.

Ronon, along with a mixture of eleven Lantean and rebel personnel, including Nika, were currently doing a quick last minute prep inside the scouted access tunnel leading into the prison mines. Ronon was glad for the extra time given Lorne's absence and the unpredictability of working with untrained strangers.

Sheathing his last knife, Ronon briefly nodded a signal to Nika who fell to Ronon's left with the ease of a well practiced team member, reminding him of an Athosian woman potentially working through the same preparations in another tunnel not so far away. Without wasting another second, the two silently began to lead their strike team through the tunnels which cradled their prize.

A few minutes into their journey, the sound of muffled voices began to float throughout the tunnel surrounding the team with indeterminable words. Straining his ears against the darkened silence, Ronon was able to pick out words such as escape, punishment, and death amidst the scattered laughter of the unaware guards. As Ronon looked over to the woman on his left he could tell even in the frail lighting that she too had heard and understood the significance of the disconnected words.

Ronon briefly considered breaking radio silence to determine Teyla's location when Nika gently slid up beside him a determined, knowing smile gracing her face. Watching her hand drift purposely to her side, Ronon nodded his unspoken assent. With a blur of motion, Nika quickly moved down the corridor, Ronon trailing three paces behind. He just managed to catch the mischievous look on Nika's face as the easily lofted flash bang went off in the room before her, unleashing panic on the five men laughing within.

...

..

...

Meanwhile, in yet another access tunnel, Elizabeth was facing her own battles.

While McKay and Zelenka's earlier claims regarding the tunnels structural viability had, thankfully, proven true, especially in light of the engineering team, which had accompanied the recently arrived medics, expertise in reinforcement, Elizabeth still felt anxious.

The tunnel was buzzing with energy as the medics prepared equipment for the most efficient retrieval and transfer of patients to a pre-established triage space via shuttle. The excavation team were removing rock with a frantic ease while the scientists continue to monitor the area for any unseen repercussions of the earlier blast. Everyone was doing their job; Elizabeth just wished she had a different responsibility.

In recognition of her team's skill, Elizabeth had stepped back to aid the scientists while liaising between the teams on the field and those back at base. This was the original plan, keep communication flowing and her out of trouble. That was why this entry point had brought the extra equipment to maintain communication relays between the multiple fronts of this action. What Elizabeth hadn't counted on was the necessity of one particular screen full of flickering readings. With the added complication of the trapped prisoners, someone had been needed to monitor the life signs of those trapped beneath the rock. Seeing as they were lacking hands, Elizabeth had spent the time since the initial blast running communication from behind a screen watching as the lives of the prisoners their blast had launched into jeopardy, flicker and fade. To Elizabeth they were taunting her with her helplessness.

"Excuse me, Dr. Weir?" a young male voice called with a gentle but firm voice.

"Yes?" Elizabeth responded, willing herself to look away from the small screen and face the young man standing before her.

The young man smiled at her response, he had been attempting to get the doctor's attention while he journeyed through the tunnel to no avail. "I just wanted to inform you that Dr. Beckett has assigned me as the medical liaison in this endeavour as he expects it to get rather busy his way in a short while."

"Thank you." Elizabeth replied, breathing an uneasy sigh of stress at the reality of Dr. Beckett's upcoming need.

"I've got my medics set up and we're ready to move as soon as we've got access to our patients. We've been told the first of the victims should be accessible within ten minutes. However, that brings up another issue ma'am. The excavation teams will need to continue their efforts while my team is working on stabilizing and transferring our patients as quickly as possible." The young man trailed off.

"You're asking those of us not directly involved in the immediate rescue efforts to keep our distance, ummm . . ." Elizabeth asked with a wry grin at the man's discomfort and her own inability to remember his name.

"Exactly ma'am and its Carl," he responded, relieved that Dr. Weir had understood. "We appreciate the work being done by those of you on survey duty but, frankly, you aren't a priority ma'am and we need you out of our way." Carl finished with a good natured smile.

"Understood, I'll get the survey station moved immediately."Weir replied.

"Thank you Dr. Weir," and with that the young medic turned around to rejoin his team.

Radek and Rodney, having overheard Elizabeth's discussion, had already begun disassembling and moving their station to the other side of the tunnel, Radek streamlining their equipment for a quick evacuation when it was time to leave much to Rodney's displeasure. By the time Elizabeth had joined the two, the station had been moved though the debate over which equipment was _truly_ necessary was still raging. Elizabeth smiled ruefully at the normalcy Rodney's bickering brought to a situation, even one as dangerous as this.

Elizabeth sat down to continue monitoring the prisoners' life signs when a shout echoed throughout the tunnel. "We've got the first one."

Immediately, the action in the tunnel changed tones, medics sprang into action while the excavation crew regrouped to continue their work while allowing the vital medical care access to their patients. Elizabeth watched with prides as the steady rhythm of the excavation became punctuated by the sounds of the medical team offering reassurances. However, the dread in her stomach continued as she watched the rest of the signals continue their flickering dance.

Throughout the procedure Elizabeth felt her stomach roll as the flickering become accompanied by cries of

"We've got another one, get me a stretcher."

"Need help over here, we've got crushed limbs."

"This one's shocky, someone grab me an I.V. we need to run a line."

Elizabeth watched with baited breath as stretcher after stretcher was removed from the rubble. Dirt caked bodies, conscious and unconscious, were carried past her station where she sat monitoring their allies who were still trapped while they were whisked away to the triage area and into Beckett and crew's tender care.

Spotting Carl coming out for a break while the excavation team worked on releasing the last flickering light from its prisoner, Elizabeth walked over. "How'd we do in there?"

Carl looked up, the exhaustion of a hard job with the knowledge of more coming wearing hard on his face. "Not going to lie, it was messy. One of the crew had to perform an emergency amputation but it was that or their life. In those situations, it's a no-brainer." Carl shook his head wearily as two of his team carried the last stretcher out of the tunnel, a covered and obviously dead body its precious cargo. "There are worse things than losing a leg or an arm."

"Your team did well. Have Dr. Beckett send word through when he has time." Elizabeth gently ordered, sending the man to rejoin his team before heading to his next assignment, whether the other tunnels or the triage site Elizabeth couldn't remember.

"Elizabeth." Dr. McKay called out, sidestepping a team who were already clearing the tunnel of equipment that was no longer necessary, all communication now could be bounced through the shuttles rather than relying on a ground unit. "Elizabeth, I've been re-examining the data while these cretins have been actively depriving me of my equipment and I can't find a way to reconcile the amount of time and resources necessary to join the others through this location any longer."

"I know Rodney." Elizabeth said. "I've already assigned those who are able to join Krial or Ronon's team to do so, the last shuttle left five minutes ago to take them over to the entry points. The rest of us will disperse to the base or to triage as was originally planned," she explained.

"Oh, of course, that makes sense. I mean, I just, I expected." Rodney trailed off remembering his own assignment at the base."

"Rodney," Elizabeth started gently. "I know you want to be at triage when he comes in but you'll be of far more use to everyone, including John, by doing your job at the base. Understand?"

"I know that Elizabeth." Rodney replied sharply, eyes trailing down the tunnel where the medics had only moments before carried away the first recognized fatality of the mission. "I don't think I could stand failing." Rodney ended softly, the unspoken "him" dead on his lips.

Elizabeth looked at Rodney with compassion, knowing the strain the scientist must be under to show such vulnerability for him. "That's why you're not doing this alone Rodney." Elizabeth urged, her face setting in determination. "One way or another, John's coming home."

Elizabeth just hoped it wouldn't be on a covered stretcher.

...

..

...

Teyla allowed herself a moment to take a steadying breath in the dimness that surrounded her. Word had just arrived from Major Lorne, through her radio, that "unforeseen circumstance would prevent their team from joining the initial assault." Although Lorne had been careful to confirm the safety of the personnel around him, Teyla still sent out a silent prayer for her absent comrades.

To her right, Krial was silently assembling their strike team according to the plans drawn up in an earlier strategy meeting between the involved parties. Their particular team had been assigned the closest access point according to scouting information and, in Teyla's experience since joining SGA-1, the moment of preparation would be helpful upon actually encountering their enemy should back-up be any further delayed.

"Teyla?" Krial whispered after arranging the team satisfactorily according to their strategy.

"Yes, Krial?" Tyela responded shaking herself out of her thoughts.

"Are you ready?" Krial asked searchingly.

Teyla noted the concern in his eyes and realised her reflections must have been noticed. "I am as well as can be expected given the circumstances," Teyla whispered. "Let us retrieve our people," she finished with a quiet strength that permeated the space, belaying any doubts Krial might have been harbouring.

"Good, "Krial nodded.

Moving as a unit, the team silently made their way through the tunnels. Teyla allowed herself one more momentary thought to drift towards Ronon, hoping his team was finding equal success in this early phase of their mission.

Creeping along the dim passageway, Krial and Teyla both signal to the team simultaneously as an onslaught of light and noise signalled their imminent arrival to the prison proper.

Making sure to stay blended within the shadows, Krial closed the distance between himself and Teyla before whispering in her ear "Do we wait for word from Ronon before moving?"

Teyla hesitated momentarily "I am unsure. Ronon is notorious for his lack of verbal communication" Teyla paused, considering their options. "I believe . . ." Suddenly Teyla was cut-off by a sound she recognized as a flash bang echoing throughout the room ahead of them. "I believe we have our confirmation, "Teyla muttered wryly.

"Let's move," Krial yelled urging the team forward into the light ahead.

Following Krial, Teyla was amazed at the sight before her. The room they had entered existed mainly below them, where row upon row of prisoner were standing encircling a wooden platform which, at the moment she was unable to see. As for her team, they had entered a series of catwalk-like structure, which Teyla realised consisted of an entire level where the guards could monitor the majority of the prisoners without any risk to themselves or, at least, had born no risk to themselves she thought looking up to see an open door that held an unconscious guard laying upon its doorway.

All around her, rebels and Lantean personnel were fanning out. Earlier strategy sessions had decided to make use of the element of surprise, playing out the suspicion that many guards would not be able to react to the concept of people breaking into their prison, let alone the reality of such a scenario playing out before their eyes. The original plan had also incorporated the hope that any able bodied prisoners might also join the rebellion, adding to the strike forces numbers and yet, when Teyla looked down the prisoners still held their ranks, apparently in equal awe at the battle occurring overheard.

Moving forward into the room, Teyla felt a movement to her left. Spinning into a kick, she was surprised when her foot met flesh which suddenly disappeared. Looking down, she spotted a middle-aged guard gasping for breath. Rolling her eyes despite herself, Teyla offered one quick hit to the man's head and watched him slip into unconsciousness. Bending over to remove the man of his untouched gun, Teyla paused as something caught her eye. Holstering the guard's gun, she took a closer look at the pedestal she had noted moments earlier when a shout bubbled up in her throat "John!"

...

..

...

"Bout time I get to do something useful" Ronon muttered. Looking down at the unconscious men in an otherwise empty room, apparently the rest of his team felt the situation was under control, they were right, he thought with a grin. Sitting around for weeks; waiting on politics and computers made him nervous. Moving, using his senses, living reality, this is where Ronon thrived not in some dusty tent watching kids while Sheppard was stuck in this hellhole.

Stepping over the body in the doorway Ronon quickly swept over the dingy room. Original intel had informed the strike team that the a mandatory festival celebrating King Mabon's benevolent reign above ground meant the guards were running short staffed, a heavy factor in the timing of their attack. In various places around the upper level, Ronon could make out figures from both strike teams engaged in hand-to-hand combat with the guards. A fast estimate told Ronon almost a quarter of the guards had already been incapacitated with more trying to hide amongst the prisoners their cleanliness sticking out like a sore thumb. All in all, Ronon estimated approximately 45 guards remained against their 24 team members.

Ronon could live with those odds.

Actually, all things considered Ronon could more than live with those odds. In the 15 minutes since they'd set off the flash bang, the teams had systematically been working through their opponents receiving only minor injuries and little true resistance. The guards were nothing more than armed bullies, faced with a real challenge they didn't know what to do.

Ronon spotted a guard coming in his direction, easily knocking him out as the guard ran by, not even noticing Ronon before unconsciousness claimed him to Ronon's disgust. Taking the guard's weapon, in the off chance he proved capable of resistance before he could be properly secured, Ronon was scouting out his next target when a familiar flash of colour raced by his line of sight. Straight ahead he watched as Teyla deftly leaped onto a previously unnoticed platform and began to descend into the crowd below.

"What are you doing?" Ronon muttered, before launching himself back into the fray.

...

..

...

"John!" Teyla was horrified to see her teammate in such a state. Looking around the room she quickly spotted the moving platforms which would take her to their long lost friend. Making sure her team was in no immediate danger, Teyla began weaving her way through the catwalks, talking a measured leap to close the final distance. Quickly scanning the contraption she found a single button and pressed it, relief filling her as she felt the jerky movements and saw the catwalks slowly rising above her.

Bracing herself for the oncoming wall of bodies standing between her and John, Teyla took a deep breath and moved off the platform. To her surprise, it was not a wall that stopped her but a single, immovable person.

"Who are you?" a rough voice scratched out.

Teyla paused to look at the battered man who had offered her first real resistance since entering the complex. "We are friends, here to release you from this captivity but first I must tend to my friend over there."

The man's eyes narrowed "You're John's friend?"

"Yes," Teyla answered slowly.

The man's ragged face lit up in hopeful disbelief. "He said you'd come, said you'd help. He never gave up on, not til the end."

Teyla eyes grew wide at the man's last comment. Did that mean John had given up? "He was correct in his statement. We have come." Teyla reaffirmed, urgency speeding her speech as she looked worriedly at the platform where John lay, aware of the prisoners' growing awareness of the conversation occurring in their midst. She was surprised, therefore, when the prisoner before her suddenly turned around and punched a man in the crowd behind them. Startled by the action, Teyla was even more surprised to realise the newly fallen man was, in fact, one of the prison guards attempting to hide among his recent victims.

The prisoner turned back to Teyla and with quiet strength met her gaze "Help John" he said slowly "we'll watch your back."

"Thank you" Teyla replied earnestly. Not sparring another moment, Teyla quickly made her way through the now actively helping crowd, racing towards her friend and hoping she was not too late.

Hesitantly, Teyla reached down and placed her finger alongside John's neck, as Carson had taught all field members during first-aid training, willing there to be some sign of life in the man.

There. Faint and fluttery, the unmistakeable beat of a pulse trembled beneath John's skin. Teyla sighed in relief. Grabbing a knife from her boot she purposefully began cutting away the thick cords which bound the wounded man to the pedestal.

Halfway through her task, Teyla was startled by the sound of gunfire erupting meters above her head, nearly nicking John as reflexes kicked in. Pausing from her work to assess the situation, Teyla looked up to see Major Lorne and his men standing outside the room in which she had first spotted evidence of Ronon in what seemed ages ago. Although relieved by the realisation that Lorne's presence truly confirmed the safety of the third team, Teyla was far more excited by the presence of the young man standing almost three people back in Lorne's team – Carl. She began to wave in his direction insistently.

Major Lorne, who had been surveying the room and directing his men accordingly, astonished at the speed in which a regime which caused so much suffering was taken down, quickly spotted the young Athosian woman and the reason for her urgency as he watched her finish cutting through Sheppard's ropes and ease the injured man into her lap.

Sensing the necessity, Lorne himself took point to safely lead Carl and two of his medics through the last attempts of the guards to retain control of an already lost battle, to a grateful Teyla who was eagerly observing their steady progress.

"Hold on John" Teyla whispered to the unconscious man in her arms. "Please, just hold on a little longer, "she urged as she watched his chest slowly fall.

...

..

...

A.N. So, I'm not completely happy with this chapter but I don't write fight scenes well (which is why I try and avoid them) so I'll probably never be happy with this chapter. Anyway, thanks for your patience, and remember writer's only get better through reviews and practice (hint :D ). Also, does anyone know why keeps removing all my line breaks all of a sudden?


	16. Chapter 16

Disclaimer – See Chapter 1

Location: triage area near the rebel base

Carson paced back and forth, tension radiating from his tightly wound posture as he threatened to wear a groove into the already rough terrain of the M.A.S.H. unit he and the rebel medics had hastily constructed in anticipation of the inevitable wounded.

The twelve cave-in survivors were being expertly tended by his staff in addition to a contingent of extra physicians, currently on loan from SGC courtesy of a newly implemented "cross-cultural" exchange orchestrated by one General Jack O'Neil.

Carson silently thanked the heavens for the general's craftiness. He had been concerned that, in light of the unofficial nature of their alliance with the planet's rebels, the medical staff would have been overwhelmed with a lack of staff and supplies under the incoming deluge of broken bodies. He should have known the infamous, former leader of SG-1 would pull through for them.

Up until two minutes ago, Carson had been skillfully working alongside his recently expanded team; expertly adding his skills in caring for a young woman who had been injured in the blast. That was before Carl's radio call announcing the imminent arrival of on Lt. Colonel John Sheppard.

It was fascinating how "imminent: could seem so bloody long when your friend's life was on the line.

"Where the hell are ye?" Carson muttered, staring at the temporary ceiling they had erected to serve as a preliminary triage base for the rescued prisoners and their injured liberators. Carl had clearly said their ETA was 2 minutes. How long could it possibly take for two bloody minutes to pass?

Carson's eyes widened as his internal rant was silenced by the unmistakeable hum of a puddle jumper landing just outside the tent's door. The puddle jumper had barely touched the dusty ground before Carson began closing the distance between him and his target.

Carson's anxiety to reach his injured friend was only matched by Carl's eagerness to unload his fragile cargo. Carson had barely reached the shuttle when Carl emerged already moving Sheppard towards the nearest treatment bay.

"What have we got lad?" Carson called to the young man, feverishly working over a frail and worn body that Carson quickly realised must be Colonel Sheppard, though he was doing a passable imitation of a skeleton from what Carson could see, the mottled and bruised chest barely rising. It never ceased to amaze him just what that man continued to miraculously survive and prayed the young man's luck hadn't finally met its match.

"He's in rough shape," Carl responded not bothering to look up from his charge. "He crashed in the jumper once. We got him back, pulse is thread but we're starting to see signs of stabilizing. I've seen multiple contusions and lacerations in various stages of healing, it's amazing more aren't infected from the conditions I saw. Multiple cracked ribs, possible fracture in the left arm as well, to be honest I think it has already partially healed and will need reset. Definite signs of starvation, some sort of respiratory distress, internal bleeding, and a head injury of unknown severity. He was unconscious when I arrived on scene." Carl rattled off as the two began moving Sheppard into a trauma bay. "Oh yeah, and the rescue team interrupted his execution, he was sentence to die by the whip" Carl finished, a grimace slipping past his professionalism.

"Dear Lord" Carson muttered at Carl's preliminary report. "Looks like we've got our work cut out for us." Carson saw two of his nurses walking towards the surgical theater. "Maria. Sam. I need you to scrub up for OR." Carson called over his shoulder. "It's going to be a rough one."

"Now as for you John" Carson whispered looking down at his battered friend. "No giving up on us now lad. Do you hear me? That's an order, Colonel Sheppard, you aren't allowed to die on my watch" and with that, Carson and his team disappeared into the O.R.

Sterenyk Strey – just for you one more life has been spared, that's right folks reviews save lives (at least when you've got authors who like to whump on characters).

Apologies for the delay, as some of you know my life got pretty crazy and after a short illness, I lost someone in my family. Thanks to all who have written encouragement and waited so patiently for life to ease up. Hope this helps tide you over until I can get the full chapter up :D


	17. Chapter 17

Disclaimer – See Chapter 1

Just how long does voodoo take anyway?" an agitated Dr. McKay ranted as he paced through the makeshift storage room Carson has organized and was now serving as SGA-1's waiting room. It had been twelve hours since John's evacuation. The mine was securely under the rebellion's control but the aftermath was proving more challenging than anyone anticipated.

Although the prisoners were slowly being treated, placed, and in some cases claimed by their clans for proper burial, their initial rescue mission had enlivened the masses, sparking the entire capitol city into the beginnings of civil war, increasing the number of casualties and refugees needing aid.

Following John's rescue, Teyla and Ronon had rejoined the rebel forces, successfully repelling Mabon's efforts to retake the captured prison. It was only when Elizabeth gave them a direct order to return to the base half an hour earlier that the two had come and joined Rodney in his vigil.

"I am sure Dr. Beckett is not making you wait intentionally Rodney. John was not in good shape upon his arrival into Dr. Beckett's care. I believe even with the advanced technology Atlantis possesses John is in for a difficult recovery," Teyla offered slowly, reflecting unwillingly on memories of a bloodied Sheppard laying in her arms.

"The lass is right Rodney," a weary voice uttered from behind the group. Startled at the voice so silently having crept up on, the team was surprised as they turned to find a weary Carson, now merely a foot behind them, bloodied scrubs and exhaustion heavy on his face, leaning against the doorpost.

"Dr. Beckett" Teyla asked hesitantly. "Are we to assume the surgery was successful then?"

"Aye, John's still with us but he's got a fight on his hands, and no Rodney, I don't want ya goin' in ta see him yet" Carson added with a pointed look, interrupting the anxious Doctor's unspoken question.

"Why not?" Rodney asked, the hint of a whine born of weariness and concern creeping into his voice.

"I'm hoping to have the lad stable enough to be transported back to Atlantis on the next patient evac. Ye will be able to sit with him once I have him safely home. For now, I can't have ye in the way of me nurses who are working to make sure he's stable enough to make that jumper." Carson continued in a slightly softer tone at the contrite looks crossing the faces of SGA-1. "Now, what do I have to do to keep you three from becoming me next patients, because, not that I don't love having ye around, but I have a wee bit of a full house at the moment and don't need the extra business."

"What are you talking about Doc?" Ronon growled.

"Just the simple fact that ye all look like a strong wind could knock any of you three over. What have you been doin' to yourselves?"

"Ronon and myself have been assisting the rebel forces in holding off the King's forces in their attempts to reclaim the mine while we awaited your report on John's condition" Teyla admitted. "The quietness of awaiting word seemed more wearisome than actively participating in the work which needed doing."

Carson once again softened at Teyla's admission "Aye lass. I understand all too well that reasoning. At least tell me ye've been eating throughout all this."

"Of course we've been eating." Rodney interrupted. "Well, I've been attempting to eat. I'm not sure it's actually fair to call military rations food. They aren't even allowing us to have coffee to wash the stuff down apparently that's a highly rationed substance during wartime." Rodney griped

"Well, it's good to know that you're holding true Rodney" Carson smiled wanly. "If you all promise to rest and get yourselves cleaned up, I'll allow you to sit with him once his settled in Atlantis, no questions asked. If my schedule's correct you've got just enough time to take a reasonably length nap anyway."

"Hint taken" Ronon nodded, slumping against the wall, blaster laid across his chest and drifting quickly off to sleep.

Rodney watched the Satedan with wide-eyed jealousy. "Well, I guess I'll just go and find a spare cot, not all of us can just crumple up anywhere like Conon and expect to have a functional back in the morning."

"Of course not Dr. McKay." Teyla said soothingly. "I believe I saw a spare cot by the supply pyramid over there."

"Thank you Teyla," Rodney whispered, looking off to where Teyla had pointed and visibly tired at the realisation that sleep was a near reality.

"That is what friends do Rodney now go and rest, John will need us soon. Perhaps, Doctor Beckett you should consider getting some rest as well." Teyla said, easing herself down beside Ronon's sleeping figure, a sigh of relief slipping out of her mouth.

"Thank you for your concern lass, I believe I'll take you up on that and don't worry I'll be sure to wake you if there's any change in John's condition."

"Thank you Doctor." Teyla said sleepily, allowing herself to drift into an uneasy rest.

Pain. It was everywhere.

Floating through the darkness, he strained to make sense of his world.

"Ease.. . kay? Home... Stop. Restrain .. ."

Hands were holding him back, everything hurt. The blast, the guards, he was, he was a prisoner. They were hurting him, where was she, where was he. What was going on?

The world shook as pain lanced through his consciousness, whatever conclusions he may have drawn were lost as the darkness drew him in once more.

A.N. - and we're off and crawling folks. For those who have been following, the next chapter should reconnect us with the events of chapter one, that's right the flashback is over. Now would be the time to take a refresher of the plot, review, etc . . . Thanks again for reading!


	18. Chapter 18

Disclaimer see chapter 1

* * *

Beep. . . Beep . . . Beep...

The machine surrounding the still form of Lt. Colonel John Sheppard steadily beeped and hummed on, marking the slowly improving the life signs of their quiet charge. Four days earlier John had successfully been transferred back into Atlantis, although they had ended up needing to restrain him for the transfer itself when the injured man had regained enough consciousness to start fighting them in his delirium.

Carson hated giving the order to restrain John – chemically or physically – due to his past, but in this case he'd rather risk a mental setback for John which was treatable rather than a physical injury might not easily be healed.

Now Carson was beginning to wonder if someone else might need to be restrained –whether it should be McKay and Ronon or himself, however, was yet to be decided.

Although SGA-1 was still actively participating in the ongoing events both planet side and around Atlantis, any time a team member wasn't on duty they were keeping vigil over their unconscious leader. In McKay's case, this meant he had simply moved his laptop into John's area and was working from Sheppard's bedside.

If it wasn't for the fact that their presence, including the regular outbursts of bickering, weren't disturbing the patients and, in fact, seemed to soothe John slightly with what Carson's ruefully assumed was the bickering's familiarity, Carson swore he would have kicked the lot out of his sick bay days ago, medical prerogative and all.

Hearing Rodney and Ronon's voices begin to carry across the room lightly, Carson sighed and set his kettle to boil.

* * *

Rodney McKay shifted in the uncomfortable chair for what seemed the millionth time in the last hour, readjusting his laptop in a vain attempt to restore circulation to his sleeping legs. Honestly, McKay thought, Carson must have purposely ordered the most uncomfortable chairs in two galaxies. It was as if the man was trying to keep people from visiting his sick bay. Ronon snorted in response.

"What are you snorting at Conon?" McKay asked, as the larger man's dreads shook slightly with suppressed laughter.

"You," Ronon retorted "That a problem McKay?" shifting himself in his chair with an intentionally exaggerated sigh of contentment.

Teyla watched the two warily and reflexively glanced toward John's monitors, sighing both wearily at her teammate's antics and in amused relief at the fact that John actually seemed more at peace with the carrying on around him.

"What's that supposed to mean? You know very well I have a delicate back and these chairs could qualify as a torture device on most of the backwater worlds we encounter," McKay huffed.

"Why not get up and walk around? Or has the evil chair grown into your back?" Ronon snickered.

"I happen to be in the middle of some very important work with the Lantean interface system right now and can't afford to leave these equations unsupervised by anyone unqualified. Which, for the record, is anyone with an I.Q. lower than mine."

"What kind of equations?" Ronon asked, craning his neck in an attempt to catch a glimpse of McKay's computer.

"Nothing your muscle-bound brawn would understand," McKay sulked, pride wounded at Ronon's earlier jab at his back.

"Lay off little man," Ronon growled.

"Bite me Chewie" Rodney rebounded, the stress of the past few months spilling into his voice.

Teyla gracefully rose from her chair to the left of John's bed with a roll of her eyes, only to spot Dr. Beckett standing at the door of his office with two warm mugs, steam still rising from their depths, in his hands and a welcome in his gaze. Quickly, Teyla closed the gap between the two as Carson slipped a still steeping mug of her favourite tea into her hands.

"I thought you may appreciate a wee cuppa" Carson said smiling. "I find it a very calming presence when tempers begin to grate on one another."

"As do I," Teyla answered. "Thank you Carson, the tea is much appreciated."

"I wouldn't worry too much about the lads, even with Rodney running his computers from my sick bay and Ronon taking full shifts planet side, there is still a lot of helplessness floating around between these walls."

"Indeed, the pressure of waiting can feel overwhelming at times." Teyla admitted.

"Now lass, our John, he's a fighter. His head wound is healing nicely, the arm and leg are both properly patched, and his ribs are beginning to heal. . ."

"And even under your drugs, John still mutters incoherently about some place called Afghanistan- which startles Rodney whether he admits it or not. He still fights for each breath against the infection in his lungs, and he still burns from the fever of infection." Teyla completed, her eyebrow arching, daring Carson to disagree.

"I'll admit lass, John's far from where I'd like him to be, he's fighting everything you've mentioned plus a nasty bit of malnutrition and neither one of us have cared to mention the internal bleeding or the multiple bruises and lacerations which are also healing. However, considering we all thought John would nae be comin' back to us at all, I'll take whatever I can get."

"You have a point Doctor," Teyla sighed grasping the warm mug of perfectly steeped tea tighter in her hands "it does not make the situation any easier to endure."

"Aye lass, it's not supposed too. I dread the day when 'tis easy to watch anyone of you laying on me table, in pain caused by another," Carson said putting his hand on Teyla's shoulder comfortingly. "Now if you're here of your own stupidity, however, now that be an entirely different story," Carson finished with a small smile.

"I believe I can accept that logic Carson."

"Glad to hear it lass. Now, how about we go interrupt your dear team mates before some of that unfortunate stupidity happens in me own four walls?"

"That sounds like a wonderful idea Dr. Beckett."

"Indeed it does, doesn't it" Carson said, a real smile gracing his tired face. Turning swiftly towards the door, Carson bowed with a flourish "ladies first."

Teyla looked back towards Beckett questioningly.

"To be honest lass, you're all runnin' on empty. I'm orderin' ye all to your own quarters for a shower, good meal, and a good night sleep. I was seriously hoping I could convince you to protect me from Ronon. The man's not exactly soft and cuddly at the best of times and I'm a wee, frightened man." Carson muttered, face reddening as his voice trailed off.

Letting out a genuine laugh at the Doctor's antics, Teyla willing stepped through the door leading the way towards the rest of her team.

* * *

Beep . . . Beep . . . Beep . . .

Where was he?

Slowly he blinked his eyes, wincing even in the dim and distorted light which surrounded him, painfully aware of even the slightest movements as he gently took stock of his situation.

Beep . . . Beep . . . Beep . . .

Something was beeping? A machine, a machine was beeping. Why was he around machines?

Fragmented memories flashed through his mind.

Heavy fists flying through the air.

A young woman or was it two young woman, their, her, a, fearful face blurring and morphing in his mind.

Why couldn't he focus his thoughts? He could do better he hadn't been this distracted since he was a child. A child . . .

He had been taken prisoner with a child, a child who was dependent on him, widened eyes flashed into his awareness. They must have taken his somewhere new in the prison. If only he could remember where here was, or who it was that had captured him. If he was imprisoned then the child must be too, he had to get to her, had to keep her safe.

Slowly, he gazed around his prison. It was dark and the room was filled with blurry objects that looked vaguely like sleeping mummies. Not his concern, the girl, have to stay focused on the girl. It must be night time. Either way, the space appeared to be abandoned except, a guard, there was a guard in an office. He could hear voices and see a faint light coming from the corner of the large space.

Okay. He can do this. He had to do this. He swung one foot off the bed and froze.

Why was he in a bed? What kind of captors would treat him with such luxury? Doubt began to creep into the corners of his mind. Something was not sitting right. He should know, there was something about this situation that was so familiar.

He swung the other leg, pulling off wires as he moved.

Pain lanced through his entire being and the doubts, so close to finding their answer, silenced as adrenaline flooded his system trigger his flight or fight so only one thought remained.

Must protect the child.

Slowly the man made his way, one step then another, breathing carefully in relief as he felt the doors close behind him, separating him from those who would pursue him.

Glancing furiously at his new surroundings, shaking his head as a wave of familiarity attempted to cut through his fever burned brain. Out of the corner of his eye, the man spotted a door and instinct propelled him through.

A storage room? Stupid instincts. The man began breathing heavily from the effort. His leg screamed, his ribs shrieked, his body cried out, and he slumped against the wall in frustration.

The girl.

He couldn't waste time he didn't have with regrets. Pulling in a deep breath, he exited the room and headed in the opposite direction from which he started. He had to get away before they found him, whoever they were, he snorted softly. Who knew how long he had before they would attempt to recapture him?

If he hadn't been injured. If he hadn't been fevered and weakened. Perhaps, then he would have recognized that he was no longer anywhere close to the bed from which he started. Stumbling around the corner the man fell through another door blinking as a cold, driving rain began pelting into his face.

Rain?

He was outside?

They had moved him to a different building, the girl could be anywhere at this point. Without a second though he plunged headfirst into the blinding rain, shivering despite himself, a half formed name on his lips..

"Manda."

* * *

Cassie was exceedingly grateful the Daedalus had found room for a few extra luxuries on their last run.

Night shift would seem a lot longer if it weren't for the newest episodes of her favourite soaps and as one of the newer personnel, it appeared night shift was going to become her new best friend. Not that there was a lot of stress to the job, even with all the casualties, sick bay currently only help Lantean personnel with Colonel Sheppard being the worst of the lot but Dr. Beckett had sedated him just before he left to catch a well deserved rest of his own. In some ways, all she needed was some popcorn and Cassie could easily imagine she was back at one of her high school babysitting jobs.

Just as this week's lead character was about to confess their undying love for somebody's long lost evil twin, she felt a strange tingling creep up the back of her neck, causing her to lean forward and pause her show mid confession.

Listening carefully Cassie sat silently for a moment before shrugging her shoulders and resuming her show, after all scheduled checks were five minutes away, what could possibly happen in 5 minutes with a bunch of sedated and resting soldiers.

Frowning slightly as the credits rolled following the anticipated cliffhanger, Cassie cleared her workspace, grabbed her charts, and headed out to make her rounds.

Out of nowhere, Cassie felt a tingle creep up the back of her neck, instinctively this time, she allowed herself to survey the room, dropping her clipboard with a startled gasp as her eyes settled on Sheppard's empty bed.

"Cassie to Dr. Beckett" She whispered shakily into her headset "we've got an emergency."

* * *

A.N. – Can you believe it? We're back to the beginning! Flashback is over; all will be wrapped in the next few chapters. Any guesses on who will survive the final curtain?


	19. Chapter 19

Previously in Chapter 3 . . .

"You're a figment of my own consciousness, I thought you would already know, besides, much as I miss you, I don't have time for this. I need to get back 'Lantis . . . need team, help. Have to find 'Manda, made her a promise . . ." John's voice began to trail off as his body and mind began to succumb to the pleasant oblivion of unconsciousness.

"No . . .have . . . stay awake . . . find . . . I'm so sorry."

With that John gave into the unavoidable blackness, oblivious to his surroundings once more.

Disclaimer – Still own nothing see chapter 1 for Disclaimer

Cold, his whole existence could be condensed to a freezing heat, his pain rattled brain realized with a sarcastic start at the truthful contradiction. John desperately huddled beneath the old tapestry trying to find comfort against the fevered chills which shook his body. His skin, still damp with a combination of rain, sweat, and fever protested as small breaths of wind curled through gaps in the rotten material.

At least, the hallucination of his mother had disappeared, though he was surprised to recognize the dim pain of loss at her absence, as though now he were truly alone.

Alone, What must Amanda be thinking right now? Was Nelea still with her, or Ralah, or Timeus? The middle east was no place for an orphaned child on their own.

Wait.

Middle East?

That didn't make sense, he wasn't in the Middle East, or was he? He knew this pain, voices that didn't make sense, even his mother, they had all appeared during another time when he had been captured – he really needed to find a new hobby, John snorted to himself deliriously as his mind tried to make sense of the data. The Middle East was the only answer, he was back, or had never left. Yet, in the middle of his deductions, a voice screamed from his core that this was all wrong and, now John knew he was losing it, he could swear that the buildings were trying to reassure him of this error.

Error.

Mistake.

John turned green as memories flooded his conscious memory. There had been a cave-in. This he knew was true. He, John Sheppard, had been sentenced to die. Then this was his punishment, they were killing him, with the way he felt the sentence must be underway because he knew he was dying.

Odd, the guards generally preferred to wear you down, not heal you and then let you die of exposure. Oh right, technically the exposure was his own fault.

"Can't win them all" John slurred ruefully.

It would be so easy to simply drift back to sleep. A thought struck the wounded man. Maybe his dreams were where Amanda was hiding. If he went to sleep he could find her.

Suddenly a sarcastic voice cut through his head "Don't be stupid Sheppard. If you go to sleep now even my intelligence will have trouble saving your sorry skin."

Male, condescending but it was a condescending to hide a deeper concern. Suddenly a name jumped into his mind – Rodney.

What was a sarcastic man named Rodney doing telling him not to go to sleep and in his own damn head!

He'd never liked sarcastic voices anyway John thought as he drifted into oblivion once again.

SGA

SGA

(Who knows how to get page breaks? Mine keep disappearing for some reason)

SGA

SGA

"Okay," Rodney's voice flared through Teyla's headset. "If my sensor calibrations are correct, and judging by the flashing lights signalling your continued existence, my brilliance continues to function with its usual magnificence and perfect accuracy. Sheppard should be located in the second building to your left.

Truth be told, although Rodney had volunteered to accompany Elizabeth to command, assisting with the search from a more electronic standpoint, every fibre of his being had railed at the thought of not joining his teammates in the field as they search for their, once again, missing leader. The logical part of Rodney's brain told him that his skills were far more useful in their natural habitat, surrounding by whirring machines and blinking lights than chasing down a man who, even wounded and delirious, could still best most of the personnel in Atlantis for survival and tactics. He still couldn't ignore the nagging feeling that hiding away with his machines was still somehow an inadequate way to repay the man who had become his best friend.

As a result, Rodney, with a healthy dose of snark, had overtaken the gate room, furiously running scans for isolated life signs with temperatures above human norm based on Carson's last readings before his star patient had gone on the lam.

"We see the building Dr. McKay. It would appear as though this section of the city once functioned as some form of marketplace," Teyla observed, eyes sweeping the area's perimeter. "Ronon, Lorne, and the rest of the team are moving into position as we speak."Teyla gently relayed back to her isolated teammate, aware of his building tension due to his separation from the unfolding events.

Across the city, Rodney softened at Teyla's obvious attempt to ease his worries. "Understood Teyla," Rodney noted before catching Elizabeth gaze and continuing hurriedly "keep us appraised."

Gesturing to the medic who had been assigned to her, a new recruit on loan through General O'Neil's "cultural exchange," Teyla signalled for the young man to take cover behind her as she began to creep silently towards the marked building.

The first thing that hit Teyla upon entering the room, leaving the storm outside, was the smell. This section had been one of the sectors flooded during a shield failure in previous years. While the sector had been reclaimed, mildew was winning its battle with the surviving porous material. When one combined this with the heavy humidity of the swirling storm and the thick dust which had resurfaced since the sector's reclamation, the air was thick with a stench that threatened to overwhelm. Catching her breathe quickly, Teyla began surveying the room in greater detail.

It was dim, the storm providing increasing flashes of illumination to an area of the city still powerless due to the heavy damage it had received as the storm settled in overhead. Most of the room's shattered belongings bore severe signs of the centuries of neglect they had born clear collateral damage from the events which had occurred under the Terran's supervision. Broken furniture of some kind littered the room alongside scattered debris, most likely having come to rest as the floodwaters receded.

Another flash of lightning tore through the sky, this time drawing Teyla's eyes to the corner furthest from their teams. Silently, she signalled Ronon, a still shadow standing by a broken window on the opposite side of the room to join her in gathering more information.

There before them lay a lumpy piece of fabric, perhaps one of the greater contributors to the mildew smell which had hit Teyla earlier. Glancing upwards, Teyla noted the stirred dust by the wall and wondered if the tapestry had, perhaps, hung upon the wall in the not so distant past. Her final clue, however, came when the next bolt of lightning revealed the tapestry to be shaking, slightly but steadily, in its dim huddle.

"John?" Teyla called softly, silence answering her hopeful plea.

Turning to the others in the room, the Athosian woman motioned them to continue their slow closing in on the wounded man.

Continuing forward herself, Teyla couldn't help but give a small cry as the tapestry parted slightly and she was rewarded with a glimpse of their target.

There was John, huddled beneath the sodden fabric, fever shining on his face which highlighted the various, visible wounds that were now visible. As lightning once more boosted the glow of their flashlights, Teyla could now see that John was seemingly unconscious and shaking badly.

Emboldened by the man's weakened state, though he would later claim professional zeal, the young medic darted past Teyla flying to Sheppard's side in an attempt to begin stabilizing the wounded Colonel. He had no more than kneeled down when the sick man's eyes flew open.

Reflecting back afterwards, Teyla supposed she shouldn't have been surprised. After all, if anyone could manage the impossible it would be John Sheppard. However, when the wounded man's fist connected with the medic's jaw, knocking the young man out cold, her initial reaction had, admittedly been shock.

John's fist connected solidly with the young man's jaw and as the medic fell unconscious to the floor, John's frail body forced itself backwards, words streaming from his mouth that neither Teyla nor Ronon could understand.

"Dr. McKay?" Teyla whispered gently. "Have you been monitoring our situation?" she asked, gently using calming gestures in an attempt to soothe the agitated man whose eyes were frantically seeking a non-existent escape.

"Obviously, I have been monitoring the situation." McKay snapped back, pacing through the control room and wringing his hands furiously.

"Any insight you could provide would be most appreciated, regarding the current developments. Perhaps if you patched Carson through as well?" Teyla continued, disregard McKay's tone and maintaining a level tone.

"Carson's here with me," McKay snapped "but believe it or not I'm perfectly capable of filling in your current gaps of knowledge. Our earlier concerns have become reality. John's rambling" Teyla looked up and noticed that John indeed was still rambling on. "Is actually a language from Earth. John must think you are his captors not his rescue team." Rodney finished with a frustrated sigh.

"What do you suggest Doc?" Ronon asked in an unusually gentle tone for the large warrior.

Carson interrupted before McKay could reply "You need to try and help Colonel Sheppard feel safe. Actually, lad, you would be better to let Teyla attempt and connect with the poor boy. Even at the best of times you do present a rather intimidatin' force and John's not exactly in the best place right now."

Ronon shrugged and glanced towards Teyla. Taking the not so subtle hint, Teyla scrambled for soothing words that might cut through John's feverish haze when the man in questioned suddenly slumped into a heap, a whispered word silenced as he fell beside the now stirring medic.

Swirling around, Teyla caught sight of a second medic, now standing just behind Ronon, an odd weapon in his hands.

Seeing her questioning stare, the medic piped up "tranquilizers ma'am. I realise it's not standard or even preferred procedure but I couldn't exactly risk another man going down" the medic gestured to his colleague now standing with a large bruise beginning to deepen on his jaw "and the Colonel needs treatment now" the impossibly young voice stated bluntly, pointing to the blossoming red stain on John's side.

"Understood, let's get both of them up to Dr. Beckett" Teyla replied resignedly.

With a practice ease the rest of the medical team entered the room, efficiently loading up the Colonel onto a stretcher, all the while checking vitals and applying pressure to re-opened wounds as they gently rushed the sedated figure towards the nearest transporter and quickest route to Dr. Beckett's fully stocked infirmary.

Following at a distance, Teyla pondered the events of the last few moments quietly to herself. They had achieved their objective. John was safe and this time the team would not allow him to fall into harm's path, either at his own or another's hand. Life would return to normal, or at least as close as Atlantis ever came to such a mythical state.

John, was a survivor, still wounded and suffering, this was their normal. So why couldn't she forgot the panic in John's eyes just before the medicine had put him under and who or what was this "Manda" he had whispered with such desperation?


	20. Chapter 20

Disclaimer – See Chapter 1

Carson let out a satisfied sigh as he sank deeply into his chair, inviting the wondrous aroma of his freshly brewed cup of coffee overwhelm him while the beeps and whirs of the infirmary's machines combined into a comforting white noise soundtrack, reassuring all who knew to listen of their charge's safety.

After a long and trying ten days, his most errant and stubborn patient appeared to be on the mend. Not that John hadn't given Carson his best try to leave the land of the living. While John's little excursion had proven a great discovery for the more archeologically minded scientists, Carson had originally worried about the trip's effects on John's recovery. Old, moldy, broken-down marketplaces were not usually high on Carson recommended therapy options. However, John had responded well to treatment despite the risks he had faced and had now spent 36 hours fever free with moments of memory and lucidity increasing, though at a mind-numbing pace if Rodney's complaints were to be believed Carson thought to himself. In fact, if John kept improving at the speed he had, Carson wouldn't be surprised if John was up to actually conversation in the near future.

Making himself more comfortable in his chair, Carson tipped his mug ever so slightly to take a welcome sip of the glorious brew before him when a nurse burst into his office, diverting the mouthful from its intended target to his previously white lab coat.

"Dr. Beckett." One of Carson's nurses stated firmly, a mixture of concern and annoyance plastered across their face.

"Aye lass, what seems to be the problem?" Carson responded while grabbing a cloth to attempt and clean up the mess upon him, mourning his lost java more than just a little.

"Our star patient is having issues, Doctor. I could use a professional assist." The young woman ground out in a long-suffering tone.

Intrigued by his nurse's ambiguity, Carson rose from his chair, grabbed a clean lab coat, noting the coffee had only slightly seeped into his shirt through the thick material, and followed the nurse into the larger ward.

Turning the corner, Carson spotted the trouble instantly, not bothering to hide the smile that lit up his face as he did.

There lay John, still peacefully asleep, a natural one though not drug, fever, or injury induced, looking all the world like a man lost in pleasant dreams. The nurse's issue was with the new fixtures which had become temporarily permanent features in the infirmary since John's great escape.

On John's left sat Rodney McKay, furiously typing away on his keyboard, occasionally making remarks to the sleeping man about the idiocy of one scientist or another and how frustrating it was to be the genius on whom everyone's survival was dependent. On John's right lay Teyla, somehow the lass had found space to drag a bed from another treatment bay setting it right next to John. Though Carson was sure she'd deny it later, the Athosian woman looked more peaceful than he could remember seeing her in the past as she lay curled up, one arm draped gently across the sleeping man, miraculously missing the remaining tubes, wires, and injuries.

Carson smiled even more deeply as he allowed himself to wonder where the two friends would eventually end up. They obviously cared for one another deeply but were proud and stubborn enough to deny something that could be for their good. If it had been anyone but the petite woman, John's past combined with his training would have left Carson worried for their safety, but Teyla had not only slipped past the unconscious man's demons but had also eased his nightmares better than any prescription he had discovered so far in two galaxies.

That alone would have been frustrating for the new transfer to deal with. However, adding to the poor nurse's difficulties was a Ronon. The Satedan had taken point at the end of John's bed and though maintaining his usual silent posturing, the fact that the rather large and muscular man had confiscated a hospital tray and was using it to organize his personal knives, cleaning and sharpening them methodically, greatly added to the intimidation factor.

Stepping up to the privacy partition, Carson began lightly "Excuse me lads, do ye think wee Melissa might just be able to slip in and, perhaps, check the Colonel's vitals?" Carson finished merrily, glee dancing in his eyes despite the hijacking of his infirmary, at the sight of his family reunited.

Rodney looked up with a start, noticing the medical staff for what was obviously the first time "Of course the nurse can do her job. What kind of question is that?" Rodney responded incredulously before getting a thoughtful look on his face. "Of course, I assume that means she is qualified to interact with living patients. You only let people with their papers practice your medical voodoo in here, right? Be quick Melissa. I was just about to tell Sheppard about my run in with Kavanagh yesterday."

Grinding her teeth slightly, Carson had to give the woman credit as she tightly smiled while uttering the firm correction "Melissa."

"Right, sorry," Rodney apologized distractedly. "Anyway, if Melissa is still learning all this mumbo jumbo, maybe Chewie should stay put until Helga comes on. Her shift starts in a few minutes right?"

Carson rolled his eyes, knowing that this was actual growth for Rodney's social skills during a crisis. "No, Rodney, Helga's shift ended an hour ago. This is why you lads need to go and get sleep in ye own beds. You're confused . . . and cranky," Carson added smartly.

Ronon glanced behind him "Teyla's getting good sleep."

"Ronon's right," Rodney agreed. "Besides we all know what happened the last time we all left. Team's don't leave each other behind," Rodney stated firmly before glancing down at his computer and muttering under his breath "families even more so."

Carson melted instantly at Rodney's muttered vulnerability. Glancing over, he saw by Melissa's visible slump of her shoulders that she had caught the sentiment too. Marshalling himself in an attempt to regain the situation, Carson tried another angle. "Rodney, what if I personally vouch for Melissa's abilities? Ye know I'm just around the corner and experience has shown you that Melissa is more than capable of quickly getting me, should the need arise."

"That sounds agreeable, all you had to do was tell us she was qualified Carson." Rodney said easily, standing up and setting his laptop on a nearby tray while Carson rolled his eyes wearily. On the other side of the bed, Ronon reached over and gently shook Teyla awake.

Blinking slowly, Teyla stretched herself out soundly as she came to wakefulness feeling safe and content as she revelled in the stretch. She had been having such a good dream she thought, smiling softly to herself when, all of a sudden, she distinctly heard someone clear their throat. Whirring out of bed into a defensive stance, Teyla observed the sleeping form which had been her pillow, her obviously amused teammates, a goofily grinning Carson, and an embarrassed nurse whom she believed was named Melissa and was wearing a similar shade of red to the one she knew was gracing her own face.

Working hard to soften the reddened tint, Teyla subtly smoothed her features and looked at the nurse. "I am sorry for disturbing your duties, apparently I was more tired than I realised."

Melissa was about to respond when a gravelly voice softly whispered "warm," silencing the room around him.

Every head in the room snapped to focus on the, now, sole occupant of the bed before them, who was slowly opening his eyes. "Warm went away," he muttered, the words draining him as they increased in strength, the underused voice scratching out each syllable.

Carson and Melissa jumped into action, checking his vitals with lightening efficiency. "John, lad, do ye know where you are?" Carson asked gently.

"Lantis?" John questioned sleepily.

Carson glowed with the response despite the underlying question in John's voice. "Aye son, you're back home now."

"Teyla was warm, why'd she go away." John muttered sleepily – a combination of recovery, medication, and lack of wakefulness making him far more open than he would have been under normal circumstances.

Carson grinned, while Teyla fixated on the floor, the reddish tint slowly creeping back up her face at John's honesty. "We just asked her to move for a minute lad, need to make sure she's not affecting your vital any now." Carson teased.

John slowly processed the information, accepting it with a easy nod 'makes sense. Where'd Amanda go?" John suddenly asked eyes widening as an unspoken revelation flashed through his eyes.

But Carson and the team's confusion at John's question went unaddressed as Melissa's newly administered dose of meds pulled the Colonel back into unconsciousness once again.

A.N. So, I decided to split the chapter because . . . I'm getting married in two weeks. That means I have no idea on update schedule. I was originally going to make this longer but decided I'd rather put up a scene than make you wait. So review, encouragement is much appreciated as I'm having issues finishing this story and I'll see you all when I can :D


	21. Chapter 21

Disclaimer – still don't own anything see chapter 1

Carson smiled as Dr. Heightmeyer strode into the infirmary. John had continued to wake up periodically throughout the day, each time showing marginal improvements, though tiring impossibly fast for the usually active man. Much to Carson and the team's frustration, however, John had not once explained his query for the mysterious Amanda, though he seemed almost ravenous for news about events planet-side since his rescue.

Knowing Atlantis' rapid rumour network, Carson had been anticipating Kate's check in while John was still unable to start his usual game of hide and seek with the therapist.

"Good evening lass, how can I help you today?" Carson asked pleasantly, happily noting his empty coffee mug which he had finished moments before Kate's entrance.

"Hello Carson. I heard through the grape vine that Colonel Sheppard is awake?"

"Aye lass," Carson responded with ease. "John's making remarkable progress and, to be honest, I think the whole city's improving right along with him. Even Rodney hasn't complained as much today." Carson finished soundly, relieved that the scientist had conceded to take a nap on a spare bed during one of Sheppard's own naps that afternoon.

"That's an interesting observation. I noticed a more optimistic atmosphere today throughout my work as well."

"Ah, so you're back in the city fulltime again?" Carson queried. Kate had been heavily involved with the released prisoners following the rebellion, helping the former captives start piecing their lives back together.

"Yes, General O'Neill approved a young lieutenant's request to stay planet side doing relief work in an ambassadorial role, a little approved inter-galactic clean up for the SGC's role in the current political atmosphere. He has a background in counselling and half of his workload will be comprised of trauma and crisis work with the refugees."

"Sounds like a good plan all round then, as long as he can keep from burning out," Carson responded heartily, secretly relieved. He had been worried about their impending pull out of the planet's day-to-day events, recognizing the high need still present on the planet. Having a government recognized ambassador could go a long way in establishing a larger relief project which he could participate in.

"Well," Carson continued, "I assume you're here to see the Colonel?" Carson asked.

"If that's permissible by his Doctor," Kate answered with a smile.

"Follow me then lass, I believe, if the Colonel decides to follow the schedule he's been setting, he should be waking up soon again."

Crossing back into the main ward, Carson was not surprised to see Teyla, Rodney, and Ronon all circled around John's bed with the Colonel sitting awake in the midst of them. Carson was pleased to note more healthy colour slipping into the man's cheeks, replacing the fever sheen he had borne during his earlier recovery. Carson was also not surprised to see the man tense visibly when he and Kate stepped into view.

"Doc," John whispered, his voice still rough with underuse, before nodding towards Heightmeyer with a closed expression on his face. "Doc," he greeted the woman with caution.

"It's good to see you awake again lad, this lot taking good care of you?" Carson began, knowing the team was a safe topic and hopefully would relax the tension in the room, if only a little. Carson fought the urge to sigh when the thought of the mandatory visits between Kate and John over the next few months. He silently wondered if he mightn't try to take over some of John's emotional and mental recovery as well, with the help of his team of course. He had the training just not the time to offer it to each member of the Atlantis crew with Kate being on staff. However, it might just be in the entire city's best interests for him to rearrange his schedule to fit in his friend's care.

"Hi John," Kate began in her customary soft tone after noticing that John's response of a nod to Carson was as much as they were going to get. "I was wondering if I might be able to speak to you for a moment or two? Your friends don't have to go too far if you don't want them too." She finished easily.

Teyla, picking up Kate's intent rose gracefully and began walking out of the John's area, Ronon following silently, dragging McKay by the ear. When they had left, John turned back toward Kate. "Talk if you want, Doc" John responded non-committedly.

"How does it feel to be back in Atlantis with your team?"

"Really Doc?" John's eyes took on a slight edge. "You come to start our mandatory 'you've been captures and tortured so now you must endure however many session of forced therapy until we're sure you're sane' therapy with something as cliché as a reworded 'how does that make you feel?"

John leaned back into the pillows, tired from the exertion of expression and attempting to re-submerge his anger. "You want to help me? Leave me and Carson alone, with some beer, for a night or three while you go help find my team, then we'll all be peachy."

Kate sat back at John's tirade having expected and even hoped that John would express something during her visit. She knew she was anything but John's favourite person and, to be honest, wondered if Carson might not be a better fit. If the Doctor ran into problems, there was certainly no rule against colleagues consulting on a case and John had never shown any comfort opening up to her, preferring to outthink and out maneuver her, which helped no one. His last comment, however, had definitely grabbed her attention.

"What do you mean find your team John? Teyla is with Carson getting tea in his office. Rodney went to get everyone jello at Ronon's 'suggestion,' and as for Ronon, well" she gestured to the Satedan whose outline figured prominently on the partition separating John's bed from the rest of the ward.

"I know where _they_ are Doc" John said half worried, half condescendingly. "I meant my team from the prison, there were some women and children. We were trying to dig our way out when there was, I mean, the tunnel just . . . exploded?" John ended, confusion hazing his memory as he trailed off. On the other side of the curtain, Ronon's eyes widened, almost imperceptible, as he quickly connected John's memories to the events of his rescue and, after spotting Teyla and Carson mere steps away, turned and exited the infirmary without a word to anyone.

Kate was shocked having read the reports herself and having come to the same conclusion as Ronon moments earlier "Tell you what John; your team has just gotten back." Kate said as Carson stepped up beside taking account of the situation. "Perhaps while you're resting we can start making some inquires with the relief efforts to find these people."

Carson taking his cue joined Kate's assurances. "Aye lad, you get some rest and we'll make the inquiries. Kate and I both have some connections from our work over there, who knows what we'll discover."

"Thanks doc," John slurred slightly already following the suggestion to sleep, "Knew I could count on you."

Slowly Carson and Kate exited the cubicle, drawing the curtain partially closed to give the sleeping man some privacy while still allowing his team of paranoid caregivers the ability to keep an eye on their wayward son.

"Carson, we need to talk" Kate began. "Do you know anything about the cave-in survivors?"

"I was there when they were brought in," Carson ran his hands through his hair. "But I've nae got any specific updates since coming back to care for John. I left everything in Dr. Langdon's care." Carson's face fell. "I do remember that we spent a long time in OR with that crew before the following wave of casualties hit. We almost lost a few on the table and one poor soul was gone before we got them out of the tunnel."

Kate looked back towards the cubicle. "I think it's vital for Sheppard that we get that information Carson and, judging from my talk with the Colonel, I was wondering if you would be agreeable to drawing up a cooperative care plan for him while he's resting?"

"I agree completely on the care plan lass and was hoping you might consider going that route. As for the information, if the reports are any indicator that may be a different story." Carson muttered his eyes downcast.

Kate looked at the Scotsman questioningly.

"The base we established became a central triage during the initial skirmish, there were hundreds of casualties in those first days and many victims just wanted to become lost in the system, create a new identity, and start fresh. Those people could be long gone by now, or, laying dead and unclaimed amidst the chaos."

"Well, we'll deal with that bridge when we get to it." Kate answered firmly, squaring her shoulders, and leading the way into Carson's office, who quirked his eyes in response before following the young woman. Neither one of them noticed Rodney re-enter the infirmary nor did they notice him happily consume Ronon's jello when the large Satedan proved nowhere to be found.

A.N. Here's the next quarter of the chapter. This update comes courtesy of the lovely reviews and my fiancee who came over and did wedding planning so I could take a break.


	22. Chapter 22

Disclaimer – See Chapter 1

John slowly stirred himself to consciousness with the events of the day before flooding his mind. Inconspicuously, John scanned the infirmary for any sign of a certain blonde therapist. Seeing no sign of her, John slowly opened his eyes the rest of the way and indulged himself in a slight stretch in his bed. The novelty of clean sheets, warmth, and clean self still not having warn off yet. To be honest, the novelty of painkillers hadn't exactly warn off yet either.

John glanced over towards Carson's office, visible through the crack in the privacy curtain, a detail John was convinced was purposely placed so that the Scotsman could keep an eye on him. Carson, however, was apparently still resting after a long night of paperwork with Heightmeyer.

John winced slightly at the thought of his conversation with the woman yesterday. He hadn't meant to be quite so abrupt. He'd even sent his team to see her in the past. It just wouldn't do for someone in his position to start unearthing all the skeletons in his closet. He didn't have the patience and life in the Pegasus Galaxy didn't leave the time. The Doc had seemed open to him talking to Carson though about his little excursion.

Suddenly, Rodney came around the corner, laptop under one arm, a large, half-eaten sandwich in his other hand, and Teyla following close behind. Sitting down heavily and opening his laptop, Rodney swallowed his bite and turned to John. "Good to see you up again."

"Thanks, it's nice to see you two. Where's Chewie?" John asked curiously, as Teyla made herself comfortable beside his bed.

"Hmm, funny you should mention that" Rodney began.

"I am afraid no one has seen Ronon since yesterday afternoon" Teyla clarified.

"He's M.I.A." John asked worriedly.

"No, Elizabeth said something about a personal trip, he'll be back soon. Not like the team's going out for awhile anyway." Rodney said taking another large bite of his sandwich.

"You did not inform me of that piece of information" Teyla responded, displeasure on her face at having been kept out of the loop regarding their teammate.

"I meant to tell you but I forgot." Rodney whimpered, deflating under Teyla's gaze to John's amusement.

"You forgot?" Teyla asked.

"Well, with all the excitement of John getting better." Rodney began looking over at John "No offense or anything but you were really out of it, calling after you mother and everything."

John blanched at Rodney's words "What do you know about my mother Rodney?"

Realizing his error, Rodney started to backpedal. "Well, I, you must have mentioned her . . . sometime. I guess?"

Visibly calming himself, John responded, "You know I don't talk about the past, for any reason."

Trying to avoid a confrontation, Teyla intervened "I believe Rodney is attempting to convey his concern for a friend though, I must confess, his methods do need some refining."

John looked over at the Athosian woman who continued. "We have all been greatly concerned about your welfare John, our lives were noticeably affected with your absence and though we have not suffered in the same manner as you, we too have been influenced by your captivity and illness. You are a part of us John and we could be here for you in so many ways. If only you would let us in," she finished softly.

Though still upset, John also softened at Teyla's words. "I didn't know" was all he could think to say.

"I know you did not. For an intelligent man, there are times when you can be surprisingly obtuse. Now that you have been informed what are you going to do?" Teyla said with a gentle smile.

"Do?" John asked questioningly. "Teyla, it's not that I don't. I'm glad you're. . .You guys are my family but my job requires something to be kept quiet and some things are just easier left unsaid."

"Yes, they can be easier but not better. While I do not understand why talking about mother is uneasy, I do know it is not a security risk."

"I have never spoken about my mother." John answered resolutely.

"Sure you did, you kept talking about Amanda while you were delirious." Rodney piped up, still unaware of his lack of assistance to the situation despite Teyla's glares.

"I wasn't talking about my mother." John answered a catch in his voice as he looked away from Rodney and to the woman before him. Teyla looked back questioningly. "You were seeking another woman named Amanda then?"

"My daughter." John answered his voice now breaking unwillingly at the thought of the missing child.

"If you had a daughter your records would have said so and I can clearly say they do not mention a daughter." Rodney piped up, in confusion this time.

"I adopted her on the planet and she's" John stopped and looked at Teyla who was shocked to see the open brokenness across his face. "Please Teyla, she's a child, an innocent child who did nothing to deserve that damned fate. Please find my daughter."

"Okay, John, don't get uptight" Rodney attempted to soothe his teammate as Teyla simply slid into the bed beside John and wrapped him into her arms, recognizing John's need for their presence more than their words. "I mean, you're going to set off Carson's voodoo machines and then we'll all be in trouble. I mean, if I could accidently hack your file, I'm sure we can do something to find your daughter?" Rodney ended, tripping over the unfamiliar idea of John with a child.

John looked up at Rodney, eyebrows raised in disbelief, despite the situation. "Accidently hacked?"

Sensing John needed a break to recollect Teyla continued the sentiment. "I did not know it was possible to 'accidently' hack into a computer file Rodney."

"Nor did I," echoed Elizabeth Weir, who had just entered the room and slipped quietly behind Rodney. "Sounds like quite the security risk Dr. McKay. I'm sure you won't mind doing a security diagnostic of our system under Sgt. Bates' supervision? You are the best qualified given your skills and the fact that you were the one to uncover this risk to our security." Elizabeth put forward, smirk barely concealed as Rodney's face fell with the realisation of his doubled workload.

Turning back to the man in the bed Elizabeth continued. "How are you John?" she asked.

"Just peachy," John ground out as he and Teyla untangled themselves from each other once again.

Allowing them a moment of privacy Elizabeth turned her attention to the report in her hand. "I've been given permission by your doctors" John looked up at Elizabeth's use of the plural before snorting softly as he remembered Dr. Heightmeyer. "To update you on the situation planet side, as long as certain guidelines are followed, alright?" Elizabeth did her best to look firm with the military leader who still wore an unaccustomed fragility, though whether it was from the scene she interrupted, his captivity, or a combination Elizabeth couldn't tell.

John looked up warily, usually he had to employ far more devious methods to gain information while visiting Club Beckett, unsolicited intelligence seemed somewhat fishy.

Picking up on his wariness, Elizabeth explained "We thought it might help your recovery to be kept appraised of goings on. However, you are to tell us the minute you need rest and we will break until a later time, otherwise all information privileges will be revoked."

"Got it" John nodded slowly.

"The condensed version is essentially this." Elizabeth began, wondering how to condense the experience into a summary to help John get up to speed quickly before going back and doing the hard work of piecing together the missing pieces. "After you arrest, your team immediately returned to Atlantis and we began negotiations for your release. By the time we were told who to talk too, we were politely informed that you had already been convicted and sentenced, appeals are apparently unheard of in their judicial system but SGC advised us to maintain diplomatic contact.

John's eyes narrowed recalling vague memories of his rescue causing Elizabeth to redden. "An executive decision was made to seek out allies among the other governing parties. We eventually formed an alliance with a leader named Krial who was planning a rebellion. Conveniently, their plans just happened to include an opening volley of an attack on the prison you were being held within."

"You did good Elizabeth," John said reassuringly. "You made a decision and did what you had to do. That's life out here."

Elizabeth smiled wryly remembering times when this conversation had been reversed. It was so much easier on the giving end than the receiving one. "Well, right decision or not, SGC is still slightly fuming, mind you, the fact that Krial's rebellion are the currently recognized government on the planet and are willing to open trade negotiations once the political climate settles is helping command find a more forgiving tone."

"The rebels are in control?" John blurted out as Teyla looked at him with a knowing, sad smile. "Do you know which tribe they're from? Have they released any information about the prisoners?"

Elizabeth's eyes narrowed attempting to read John's face, which instantly assumed his normal closed off expression. "Unfortunately no one knows anything at the moment. In the days following your rescue some ended up buried without identification, some left to rebuild their lives anonymously, and some are still recovering and unable to identify themselves. Finding specific individuals in the chaos will take time, if it's even possible." Elizabeth answered gently.

Teyla, who had been listening quietly, felt her heart sink as she watched John physically hunch into himself to bear Elizabeth's words.

"Ach, what are ye doin' to me patient Dr. Weir?" Carson asked, having begun his rounds only to find a dejected Sheppard, a contemplative Teyla sitting extremely close by, and a curious Dr. Weir who looked as though she were missing something obvious. Glancing over, he saw Rodney absorbed in his work, happily muttering to himself about the lack of coffee in other galaxies, some things never changed, although it certainly didn't appear to be a Lantean program Rodney was working on.

"Dr. Weir's telling him how politics are slow and diplomacy doesn't know how to get the right answers," Ronon's voice boomed through the infirmary's door.

"Ronon," Elizabeth answered slowly. "I believe your visit to the SGC a few months ago informed you on the basics of interplanetary politics and the importance of being tactful," Elizabeth warned.

"Yep," Ronon answered lazily. "Bunch of suits running around, most of 'em never been in a real fight. Think I'll stick to what I know."

"And what exactly is it that you know Ronon?" Elizabeth asked.

"How to get answers" Ronon smiled.

John perked up at Ronon's words "Answers?"

Ronon merely continued smiling as he stepped to the side allowing a bandaged and bruised Ralah to step into view.

A.N. Tonight's update has been brought to you by insomnia. . .


	23. Chapter 23

Disclaimer – See chapter 1

John could not believe it. Not only had one of his "team" survived but, thanks to Ronon, there she stood, slightly the worse for wear yet breathing and smiling before him.

"Hello John" Ralah said gently. "May I sit?"

"Yeah," John answered gruffly, gesturing for the young woman to sit down as he attempted to take in the sight before him.

She had been cleaned up before coming to the infirmary, possibly Ronon's idea though it seemed more likely Ralah had found the time on her own. She was still unnaturally pale from her exile below the earth but as John looked closely, he could see she had a slightly olive tone to her complexion and her once limp hair showed signs of started to regain some health. Her eyes stopped him though; the right side of her face was a mass of bruises, cuts, and bandages. He looked at her questioningly, curious but unwilling to ask in front of the others just what had happened.

Sitting down graceful on the chair next to Teyla with a catlike grace, Ralah looked up at John with understanding before looking around the room. "I believe Ronon and myself interrupted story time? Perhaps we should inform one another of the pieces they are missing?"

"Sounds like a plan to me" John replied, his voice back to normal from the surprise of the young woman's appearance.

"I believe, for the sake of everyone's understanding, we should start with your imprisonment and your time in the mines." Ralah offered slightly more hesitantly.

John quickly informed the team of the nature of his arrest complete with griping about a society that would treat children like that (and the people who tried to sneak them a little food). He explained life in the mines, meeting Timeus and Nelea. Much to Ralah and Teyla's dismay, John easily breezed over the events which caused his injuries. However, the real surprise for the room was when he reached the small shadow he had acquired.

"She was this tiny little thing, so quick I thought maybe I was hallucinating with the fever." John said with a smile causing Carson to roll his eyes good-naturedly. "To learn she had never been outside, to have be born in that place with no hope of ever being free. To be so cursed that no one would ever claim you. I couldn't leave her Teyla. You understand, right?" John asked his voice dropping to a passionate whisper.

"Of course not John." Teyla replied acceptance in her eyes. "We will find out what has happened to your daughter. I believe SGA-1 has some spare time on our hands at the moment anyway." She finished looking at Dr. Weir, daring her to contradict the promise.

"Ralah, this is all well, but even if we find the child" Elizabeth began.

"Amanda," Rodney piped up.

"Excuse me" Elizabeth said turning to the scientist who was already re-engrossed in his laptop.

"I believe Rodney was correcting your addressing of John's daughter. Her name is Amanda," Teyla offered helpfully.

"Of course, as I was saying, even if we locate Amanda. How will your government look on an off-world convict adopted a local orphan." Elizabeth asked.

At this Ralah lit up. "Oh it will be no problem. John was well respected among the prisoners and followed our custom of adoption, anyone of us could have spoken against his claim but, may I be honest?" Ralah asked haltingly.

"No one will judge ya here, or they'll answer to me" John said resolutely.

"Amanda was Lameaon – the lamented. No one could claim her in our area without severe repercussions in their tribe. The circumstances around her existence are so shameful among the old ways that she would always be ostracized to some degree." Ralah offered, her head hanging down in shame.

"I, well, then we will do our best to locate John's daughter and fulfill the responsibilities we have to her" Elizabeth replied.

"Our?" John asked, eyebrows raised at the thought of his daughter becoming SGC property.

"Well, you can't watch her while you're off-world and any child raised by you will have this base around their finger in no time, but let's not get ahead of ourselves we still need to find the child. Ralah, perhaps you can fill in some blanks with your side of the assault on the prison." Elizabeth asked gently.

"Of course." Ralah agreed, marshalling herself to recall the day that was both startling clear and horrifically chaotic all together in her head. "John had just left to keep watch at the end of the tunnel while the rest of us began to dig. Although our numbers were few, progress remained steady and our excitement was growing. I think our escape plan finally felt real, instead of a dream," Ralah reflected with a smile. "I do not understand what happened next. We were digging and then there was a large noise and darkness. The next thing I remember was seeing strange men above me, speaking in a manner like John does, telling me I would be okay but I know one of us was dead, I heard them say so." Seeing John's look she shook her head. "I do not know who it was. I had received these wounds to my head and was having trouble understanding things. The doctors were incredible, they said I fought them hard to die, such a funny saying, but I am much better now. My vision will never be the same but the doctor at the main base says there are devices which can help me regain some of my clarity again."

"Do you know if anyone else is okay?" John asked half desperately.

"After we were processed at the base, I know those who were able joined the fight above ground. Many of the healers were grumbling about it but word got out about the new government. The possibility of hope was too much for them to stay in bed. They were like starving men offered fresh fruit. I have travelled the wards each day, looking for those I know. I have made a nuisance of myself but I am easy to find now. One of the women I found told me that Timeus made it out of the mines and joined the battle in the marketplace. He has not been heard of since, although there are rumours that many of those who fought have scattered into groups without reporting their whereabouts." As the memories flooded her mind, the young girl began to weep softly. "I have done my best. I have looked and searched but so many are lost, so many have died and are already forgotten. Where is our justice?"

Painfully, John stretched himself out, grasping her hand.

"Aye, perhaps we'll just leave you two alone for a wee moment or two." Carson said, unheard by the people in the center of the group as Carson quickly ushered the others out of John's space in the hopes that this gesture of reaching out was a sign of better days for a man who desperately deserved it.

After a few moments, Ralah's cries began to subside and she was able to look her friend in the eyes, in some ways, she was relieved to see the sorrow in his eyes that rivalled her own being expressed openly, though silently, before her.

"You are healing?" she asked quietly, fearful of being overheard.

John weighed the hidden layers of her question, "I don't know" he replied honestly.

Ralah laughed softly "Nelea would be overjoyed to hear you admit that if her stories were any indication of your usual skills when it comes to being a patient."

"The doc's are good here, especially Carson but I'm not going to be running any marathons soon." John paused at Ralah's confusion. "Long races, but I'm getting stronger. I can talk without coughing, my pain's under control, and I can feel myself getting stronger, just not at the speed I want."

"And your memories?" Ralah asked tentative but resolute.

"They've got a doctor here who helps with that sort of stuff . . ." John trailed off.

"But you do not trust them," Ralah completed.

"No, how did you?" John asked sheepishly.

"I'm smart," Ralah said mischievously, causing John to laugh in earnest for the first time in weeks.

"You're a bit of a twerp too, but I like that in my friends, helps them put up with me." John quipped back, breathing heavily as his injuries protested the sharp movements the laughter had created.

"Is there a doctor you trust?" Ralah asked, directing the conversation back to its original focus.

"Yeah, we've mentioned maybe talking more but it's not his field and he's too busy to deal with someone like me." John said rubbing his neck.

"Someone like you?" Ralah asked incredulously. "Someone who risks his life for another, who shows people their value, who is a friend in every sense I understand the word to mean. Someone who creates such loyalty that his friends continue searching for him after its said impossible and, not only do they not give up, they succeed just to get their friend back. I think your friends would be honoured to help, especially that woman who was here," she finished with a sly smile.

"I, it's not that easy?" John answered, the words falling short on his lips.

"Only because you wish it to be difficult." Ralah stated firmly, reminding John of Teyla and giving him a glimpse of the woman she would become when she put the prison into her past.

"Your friend, Ronon, saw your pain and came to find me. Although I'm a well-known figure now, I know he still searched most of the night before he found me working on the survivor list. Your others friends also are trying to help in their own ways. Even in this short time, I can see it but you must be strong enough to let them do so and allow you all to grow through the process. The strongest man is not the one who carries the world but the one that enters into it and lets it strengthen all it touches."

"You're a smart woman."

"Thank you. On a more serious note, what will you do now?"

"Heal, go back to work, move on." John shrugged before catching Ralah's look "and talk to my friends, specifically Carson."

"I'm glad, though I think talking to Teyla might be more fun. However, that's actually not what I was referring too," Ralah answered as John looked at her questioningly. "I told you I have been compiling a survivor's list. Many people are looking for Nelea and even Timeus managed to make some friends who are concerned for him, but Amanda Sheppard only has us."

"I know" John interrupted "and if I was any kind of father I'd be out looking for her, not laying around in some bed while she could be out dead or dying."

"That's not what I meant John, You aren't strong enough to go looking, you'd get yourself sick and be of no help to anyone." Ralah tried to correct the injured man as another voice piped up from behind the curtain.

"Does this mean you're going to finally ask our help" Rodney McKay stuck his head through the crack in the privacy curtain.

"Rodney," John growled, annoyed at having been listened in upon.

"Hmm, your voice is sounding stronger despite all the excitement, perhaps Conon was right about her being helpful."

"Rodney! Explain yourself now or you'll find you next few assignments very interesting." John threatened.

"Don't get your bed sheets in a knot. Now, you know that we're your team." Rodney began.

"We're?"

A new voice lofted over the curtain "Um, there may be myself, Teyla, and Ronon out here with Rodney lad." Carson answered awkwardly. "Not intentionally eavesdroppin' ye know. Just, he's a rather slippery man when he wants to be, not that you'd guess that from Dr. Mckay's usual speed, and we were trying to bring him back to the office and may have overheard a few things."

"Anyway," Rodney continued. "We're a team and from what I've been figuring that essentially makes Amanda our niece. Now, regardless of my view on children, they have been proven useful on occasion and the never leaving family rule seems to applicable. Therefore, our only option is to go back to the planet, as a team, and find her. I've been running some preliminary algorithms based on the daily reports we've been receiving since you confessed to having a child off-world, which isn't actually too surprising. What I mean to say is, I think I've found some potential hot spots to begin looking for her."

Voice immediately erupted throughout the room.

"Dr. McKay, that is the single, most, irresponsible." Elizabeth began.

"Ach, you're not taking my patient off, rambling throughout the galaxy only to undo all my ..." Carson yelled overtop.

Ronon simply turned around with a surprised, approving glance at Rodney and started prepping his gear.

Teyla and Ralah shared a lance before Teyla elected to speak. "Excuse me, Doctor's?"

As the din continued, Teyla silently stood up, walked to the center of their group and, smiling serenely, raised her hands as the din quickly faded. "I believe I was saying," Teyla said, "I agree with Rodney. Neither John, nor the rest of us will be at ease, which I believe Dr. Beckett mentioned was a vital component to John's recovery, until the status of his daughter has been discovered. We will not let any harm come to him and will be glad to submit to a list of directions regarding John's conduct from you Carson." Teyla continued with deadly sincerity. "If you doubt my word. I'm sure I can find a way to prove our sincerity."

"No lass, I believe ye, it's just. . ." Carson sputtered.

Ralah looked, having been silently looking at Rodney's laptop during the commotion also joined in. "I believe Teyla is correct, Dr. McKay's map reminded me of something." She turned to John. "One of the patients, they saw Timeus before he left, he said if you were found, you needed to go to where it began. Does that make sense?"

John paused reflectively. "So he was paying attention. . ." John mused. "Yeah Doc, we've got a solid lead and I promise to be on my best behaviour. I'll do whatever you want."

"I'm talkin' about staying in a wheelchair, the whole time, no lifting anything, no propelling yourself, food and drink at regular intervals which I'll prepare before you leave." Carson interrupted.

"All of that and I'll submit to whatever tests and care you prescribe when I get back with minimal complaint. I'll even talk to Heightmeyer if you want." John drew a deep breath. "Though I'd prefer to work something out with you instead."

Carson couldn't hide the shock from his face "Aye, well, lad, then, I suppose if you take a medic with you. You have my permission. Go find your daughter and take care of him lads."

A.N. This chapter has been brought to you be thunderstorm warnings and tornado watches, I'm glad to be writing but seriously what's it take to get to sleep around here :D


	24. Chapter 24

Disclaimer – see chapter 1

John inhaled as deeply as his healing wounds would let him as a cool breeze blew across his face. It' refreshing caress as it moved passed his face renewed him as he slowly surveyed the scene before him.

To his left sat a prototype jeep, created by scientists at command for the rigors of off-world exploration. After field-testing the vehicle with earth-based teams, SGC had sent one to Atlantis to help with their growing quest for resources in the war against the Wraith. Elizabeth had practically demanded that the team take it with them to help John conserve energy during the expedition, a sentiment, which Carson eagerly seconded.

A small group of six military and medical volunteers were quietly and efficiently loading the jeep with medical supplies that Carson had compiled for John's care while off world though even Rodney had raised an eyebrow at Carson's . . . thoroughness. The official story was that the extras were to be added to the planet's relief effort, the team knew it was really Carson's worry about John's safety which had prompted the excess of supplies. Teyla secretly agreed with Carson's concerns and, having grown up in the Pegasus Galaxy, had to admit that should John prove to handle the expedition well, the supplies would certainly go to good use amongst the casualties of the rebellion.

Secretly, John was grateful for Elizabeth's insistence on the jeep. While he would not admit it verbally with Amanda's fate still unknown, he was all too aware of the fact that mere weeks ago he had been in a medically induced coma. Nor was he unaware of the fact that it had still been under a week since he had regained consciousness from that coma. Mind you, he had healed a lot in the six weeks since his rescue but even John knew when it was time to stack the deck in your favour.

That said, John was still uncomfortable watching the team, both his own and the volunteers, prepping materials, while he sat idly by in a wheelchair, Ralah by his side, trying not to think about the events that followed his last voluntary trip through this gate. As John sat musing, he could hear the final members of the expedition walk through the gate, ending the wormhole and signalling the imminent start to their journey. John's fingers twitched in anticipation.

Suddenly, one of the newly arrived voices floated over from the jeep causing John's face to break into a grin.

|Ach, I cannae believe you got me to come along." Dr. Carson Beckett's voice lamented from where he was methodically looking through the supplies, which were being loaded.

"Hmmm," Rodney responded thoughtfully, looking over at the Doctor who had followed him through the gate. "What do you know; it is possible for me not to be the first to complain on a mission. Guess I would have lost money on that bet." McKay muttered in a theatrical whisper, while secretly pleased that he was, indeed, not the first to voice a frustration.

"You knew as soon as you mentioned the necessity of a medical team member's presence on our mission you would not be able to trust anyone but yourself with overseeing John's care" Teyla said with a smile.

"You're right lass. The things you lot drag me off into. Ye all know I'm not cut out for field work." Carson moaned.

Still smiling, Rodney walked over and wrapped his arm around Carson's shoulders. "That's what I used to say too. Just think, one day you could be a less intelligent, voodoo version of me Carson" Rodney offered before walking off, reminiscing over his past accomplishments while his teammates attempted not to start laughing at Rodney's antics.

"Great, just what the galaxies need, another McKay," John muttered good-naturedly.

Diving straight through his teammates shenanigans, Ronon looked over at John and asked "Where too?"

"Aye, you have exactly one hour, even with this contraption, before I'm taking you back to the field hospital for a rests and to run some tests. No exceptions, extensions, nor excuses, though the team can always follow up on any leads ye may find while you stay and rest," Carson interjected.

"Got it Doc," John shrugged. "I guess it's all aboard and back to the beginning."

"The beginning? Honestly Sheppard, you should have told us that before we left Atlantis!" Rodney grumbled, wringing his hand furiously. "It'll take us the entire hour just to get to the prison and back to the MASH unit, and that's without any investigation. How are we supposed to get anything accomplished?"

"Aye John, Rodney's right. Even with that little revelation, I still refuse to give any more time beyond the hour already given. If you were anyone else or we were anywhere else in the galaxy, I'd have lost me license for letting you out of the infirmary." Carson grumbled still searching through the supplies.

"That would be true, if we were going to the prison," John agreed.

"We are not going to the prison?" Teyla asked.

"Nope, this started with those kids and that's where we need to go," John shrugged easily, allowing Ronon to help him gently into the jeep's passenger seat.

"Aha!" Carson yelled victoriously, waving the newly discovered blanket over his head in celebration.

John groaned as he spotted what Carson had found.

"Now, don't be giving me any of that. Ye promised to follow every direction I gave in exchange for a few hours out of the infirmary. Any more grumbling and we'll turn this jeep right back to Atlantis," Carson lectured, determination set on his face.

Seeing the seriousness on Carson's face, John weighed his options carefully and, for once, meekly gave in as Carson happily tucked blankets and pillows around the injured man, clucking softly to himself until he was satisfied with his work. Turning around briefly to the last box that was being loaded, Carson grabbed a bottle of water and handed it to John. "Now, drink this slowly as we travel."

Accepting the bottle without a word, John silently took a sip of water to show his cooperation.

"Well then," Rodney said, climbing into the driver's seat beside John "I guess we're off."

"As I have heard the medical staff say before, I believe we are off like a heard of cats." Teyla offered dryly.

"Aye, that would be an appropriate description, lass." Carson replied as the modified jeep roared to life and began moving towards the city.

John didn't know what to do. Memories from his last conscious trip through the area, once again, threatened to flood his mind. Although they were in the jeep, the trip was slow as the group moved slowly enough so that the extra medical and military staff on foot did not fall too far behind. John was not overly impressed with the availability of time to think. The last thing he needed was time for his thoughts to come up with creative interpretations of the past, or worse, creative predictions about the outcome of this trip. Forcing himself to focus on happier thoughts, John turned and watched Ralah who was eagerly watching everything from her seat behind Rodney with child-like delight.

As they approached the outer edge of the city, John could not help but draw in a short breath. This signs of the recent skirmishes were obvious. Scorch marks marred building walls, rubble piled in the streets, and red stains hinted at the loss which had happened on these now empty streets. John was slightly surprised that the once bustling city now held the atmosphere of a ghost town, the streets empty and silent of both the dead and the living.

"The dead are buried quickly, according to our custom," Ralah commented noticing the curiosity on the faces of the other passengers. "The living stay indoors, hiding or mourning their dead, the rest are at the different bases helping with the rebel movement."

John nodded slightly in acknowledgement, eyes still scanning the building for any sign of life, or danger. As they drew closer to the marketplace, the last landmark before the spot of John's arrest, Ralah looked into the rear-view mirror only to see John tensing visibly, emotions warring in his eyes though his face remained blank.

Wrestling with herself, Ralah leaned across and whispered "They intend to rebuild you know."

"Huh?" John grunted, taken unaware by the young woman's comment, lost in the realization that the ever-growing stains of red may, in fact, bear witness to Timeus' last stand.

"The city, the marketplace, there are plans to rebuild. At least, as soon as the customary mourning period to honour the dead has passed." Ralah offered simply, hoping to draw Sheppard out of his troubled thoughts.

"Oh," John replied, surprised the new government was already far enough into his plans for such ideas to be common knowledge.

"Yes, we need to rebuild, move forward."Ralah looked down thoughtfully, "I believe you would appreciate Krial. He is making such odd plans but it the hope that by breaking from our past we may not need to repeat it."

This caught John's attention. "What kind of plans?"

"The children who no longer possess living relatives are to be provided homes and necessities such as food, shelter, and clothing, either with tribes or special homes which have been approved by the new government. They will also be proved instruction so that they may provide for themselves as adults."

Teyla, who had been listening with the rest of the group smiled at Ralah's news, "That is good," she affirmed.

John smiled softly at the thought of the children he had met on that first day properly clothed, decently fed, and grumbling good-naturedly at the thought of homework.

"Well, that's all well and good, after all, the last thing this universe needs is more uneducated dunderheads running around, but, hey, I think we're here." Rodney pointed out as he gestured to their surroundings.

The area was as bleak as John remembered; the marketplace's silence and the palace's military presence in the distance adding to the forlorn feeling of the scene. The little beaten down shacks had not survived the skirmishes undamaged. Looking around, John could see where various huts had been desperately patched together and others still lay half collapsed or with large portions of the structure demolished, leaving any inhabitant vulnerable to the elements. John said a silent pray that the children would be a top priority once the mourning period was complete.

"So, where too?" Ronon asked, echoing his earlier query, as he hopped out of the jeep and half-lifted John to the ground, minus his wheelchair, before Carson could comment against it.

John looked around briefly, thinking back to his talks with Timeus in the mines. The boy had spoken about how watching sunsets with his mother had been one of their favourite memories, a bond the two of them had shared. "West," John said strongly, mustering his energy to stave off Carson's concern. "We go west."

Although the group moved slowly, the size of the children's village meant that the journey still only took a matter of minutes with Ronon never leaving John's side, allowing the injured man to conserve his energy.

As the group exited the collection of huts, John felt his heart drop.

There, in the clearing before them, was a freshly filled grave, a single word roughly hewn into a stone which marked the head.

Nelea.

John felt his knees threaten to give way as Ronon gently helped him to the ground before the grab before Ralah, silently sobbing, took his place allowing him to step back into the larger group now framing the clearing's perimeter.

John's thoughts raced through his head as he attempted to process the information he has just received.

Nelea was dead.

Somewhere, deep down, he had expected this. She had been old and though she had hidden it well, John knew that the ravages of old age and a hard life had affected the kindly woman. What he wanted to know was had she died in peace. Had she died knowing she was loved and that, at least, some of her "children" were safe? Or, had she been left in the dark, alone, her last moments filled with fear and questions? John fought the constricting of his heart at the realisation that his questions would forever go unanswered.

His musings were ended prematurely by a small gasp to his right.

Ralah too, has been overcome by the realization that the gentle woman from the prison had been one of its final casualties. After sinking to the ground beside John, she had silently sobbed out a prayer for the woman's soul, before painfully lifting her eyes skyward when she spotted it, a small stone, etched with a single heart, lying directly beside Nelea's.

Could it be?

The rest of the team stood around the perimeter, unsure of how to respond. The grave obviously held significance to both John and the young woman. Those volunteering on this mission were overwhelmed with a sense of awkward intrusion as they watched their military leader fight back the tide of emotions he was experiencing. Teyla, who had been watching John intently, heard Ralah's sudden gasp and followed the young woman's shocked gaze straight to the small marker beside the larger grave. Without a second thought, Teyla rushed over and put her arm around the slightly shaking man before her

John felt like all the air in his lungs had instantly left his body, remembering, what felt like minutes later, that new air war required to replace that which had been lost.

There it lay staring up at him with cold, unshakeable solidarity, a small stone marker.

Small markers, across the universe were associated with one thing, a child. . .

Amanda, he thought, his grief dying unvoiced on his lips in a strangled gasp.

Suddenly, a strange whistling interrupted the emotional huddle.

Through the collection of huts behind them, echoed a tune, brightly carried over on the light, cool breeze which still embraced them softly. Ralah quickly recognized it as a folk song, highly favoured by the prisoners when the shift overseers had been in a rare, good mood and allowed them to sing throughout their shifts. The rhythm seemed slightly off though, as if the musician was off center and distracted.

The group slowly turned from the gravesite, only to see a familiar face emerge from the huts as the whistling abruptly stopped mid-song. The musician, having spotted the small group sagging slightly into the adjacent building as extra support for the boy's prosthetic leg which, thanks to shock, was no longer supportable by the hand carved cane the boy held in his other hand.

"Sheppard?" The young boy ground out, face still white with shock, though his colour was rapidly returning. "Thought you was dead."

"The reports of his death were greatly exaggerated," Rodney quipped when the group around him remained silent. "And who are you exactly?"

"I's who your friend's here to see." Timeus responded snarkily. "You didn't come back," Timeus said, his eyes seemingly drilling into John's, not moving from his place beside the huts crumbling wall.

John, who had finally shaken himself from his surprised, finally, found his words and responded honestly to the boy's accusation. "They wouldn't let me, the healers, at least, not before today. I may have found a bit of trouble after we split up."

Timeus' face broke into an easy grin, "Now that sounds like the Sheppard who shared shifts with me. Never could stay outta trouble fer long could ya?"

"Not really" John responded with an equally easy grin before becoming sombre again. "What happened here?" he gestured helplessly.

Timeus' face fell at the question. "Couldn't get 'er out. After the cave-in, she was too far in. The healers said 'er 'eart gave out when the rocks fell. She never made it out." The sorrow on Timeus' face betrayed his youth as he continued. "I grabbed some guys from shift and we buried 'er 'ere with the kids, seemed fittin.'"

"You did not report her death to the officials," Ralah noted, her tone laced with both curiosity and accusation.

"Nelea was ours, not theirs. Wouldn't been right for a bunch o' strangers to came traipsing around 'er resting place. She deserved peace. Sides, knew if Sheppard had survived, he'd come 'ere first, like we agreed."

"Sounds risky to me lad, "Carson piped up.

"What you know about risky, pops?" Timeus asked, eyes narrowing.

"Now, now, I believe Carson was merely curious as to why you were so certain that John would return to this spot," Teyal asked, not wanting to upset the young man.

"Cause he said he would." Timeus answered incredulously, as though Teyla had asked why the sky was blue or why he like to breathe. "I knew once the healers let me out, I lost me leg in the marketplace somewhere," Timeus smirked slightly at the humour along with John who remembered many a shift trying to find something Timeus had left laying around without the overseer noticing. "That I'd come 'ere and, if he was alive, we'd run into each other. 'ad a bunch of kids keepin' eyes open too, just in case Sheppard showed 'is face while I was laid up."

"That is logical," Teyla replied, slightly astonished at the young man's logic, as well as his trust in John's word.

"What about . . ." John asked quietly, unable to voice his words at the thought of the small stone laying mere feet away from him, only to be interrupted by a new noise ringing through the air.

"Timeus," a high, clear voice rand out. "Why'd ya leave me behind again? I needs to say hi to daddy," the words muffling in a slight sniffle as the voice quieted.

"Amanda?"

Carson was worried as for the second time in minutes, John turned an impossible shade of white, staying upright, Carson was sure, only thanks to the physical support of a visibly confused Teyla.

"I told ya, t'aint' safe for ya to be out and about yet. Suppose it don't really matter none though, these folks is more than able to watch ya." Timeus said with a large grin, pointing towards the Lantean party.

A small girl slowly approached the clearing, passing by Timeus with hesitant, wavering steps. She had been bathed recently and John could see the marks of her life below the surface starting to fade as she took on a slight wind-blown tan. Her hair, now a golden blonde, was tied back into a single, tight braid, which ran down the center of her back. It was her face, however, that drew everyone's attention. Sparkling blue eyes, twinkling with confused recognition as her mouth drew tightly inwards and whispered "daddy?"

The words hadn't fully left her mouth before the small figure barrelled into John's arms, disregarding his injuries in her exuberance, though John couldn't have cared less. Teyla was surprised to see a tear fall down John's cheek before he fiercely returned the hug. For the next few minutes no one moved until John slowly lifted his head, looked back towards the small grave stone and asked the single question on everyone's mind "how?"

Timeus looked to John, then Amanda, and finally at the small stone before understanding dawned on his face. Laughing, to the confusion of the Lanteans, Timeus pointed to the young girl in John's arms, "I think you need to ask her."

Confused, John and the rest of the Lantean team looked down at the little girl who was slowly unburying her face from John's chest.

"You said you wouldn't leave me, 'cept if you absolutely had too," the little girl whispered. "I thought the only reason you'd go was if Nelea needed you more. So, I put you together so I could still visit you both when I got lonely."

John's eyes widened as he realised the stone he thought was Amanda's had actually been the girl's memorial for him.

"Are you going to have to go away again?" Amanda asked, her voice quavering.

"Yes, Manda, I have to go home again," John said softly, rubbing the little girl's back as she let out a shaky breath. "But, this time, you're coming with me."

Two blue eyes looked up at John wondrously before whispering in disbelief "You mean it?"

"With all of my heart" John answered earnestly, still holding the girl tightly, afraid she might disappear.

"Well, this is all well and good lad, but we need to get you back to base so that we can run a few tests and get you back to bed," Carson said, realizing that his patient's physical needs taking precedence over his emotional ones.

"Who do you think you are bossing my daddy around," Amanda whirled around, hands on her hips, a glare darkening her face.

Ronon burst out laughing as he walked over to help John and Amanda back towards the jeep. "Oh yeah Sheppard, the next few years are goin' to be interesting."

Six Months Later

John stretched lazily in bed, relishing the feeling of a good sleep after a long mission. Although the trip had been a relatively uneventful diplomatic mission, it had required him to be off-world for five days, the longest since he had been given the physical and mental all clear from Carson 10 weeks earlier, though he was still required to show up for the occasional, professional chat with the good doctor. It had also been the longest he had been away from home since becoming a father. While he knew that Katie Brown had taken good care of his girl, it had still been hard, hence his homecoming being marked yesterday by endless games of hide and seek, story time, and mac and cheese, all favourites of what Carson had determined was a, now, almost six year old girl. Now that he thought about it, perhaps it was a long day with his daughter that made him relish sleeping in more than the diplomatic mission.

His musings, came crashing to a halt as a small, bundle of energy came crashing down upon his chest.

"Morning daddy."

John smiled at the sight of his daughter. Both of them were healing well from their ordeal with mostly scars left to bear witness to what they had survived. Amanda did seem destined to being petit, Carson attributing her small size due to malnutrition and lack of care during her formative years, but by all other standards, she was an active, intelligent child who loved keeping her daddy on his toes.

John, to no surprise of his friends, had settled into parenthood well. At first, he had been leery about his abilities to raise a young girl alone, but he should have known better. While everyone respected his role as Amanda's father (and the man who assigned their schedules), the small girl had dozens of aunties and uncles willing to step in and help support John.

"Mornin' to you too, Munchkin," John replied as he caught his breath. "What'cha doing?"

"I'm already for my day with Uncle Ronon and Aunt Lizzie." The small girl chirped with a big smile.

"Oh?" John said, getting out of bed and pulling on some old clothes. "What do you have planned with those two?" John asked curiously while smiling at Amanda's nickname for their mission leader. Apparently, Elizabeth was still out of the little girl's vocabulary.

"Auntie Lizzie and I are going to colour and she said I could pick a language from her book and she'd start teaching it to me," the little girl rattled off.

"Sounds . . . educational. Hope you two have some good girl time," John commented as he poured himself a glass of water. "What about you and Uncle Ronon?"

"Uncle Ronon's goin' to start teachin' me self-defence," she called across their living quarters.

"He's what?" John exclaimed, water spraying across the bathroom mirror before him.

"Yep, said something about needing an early start before the boys find me. What's he mean daddy? Why would the boys what to find me? Are we going to play hide and seek with some boys?" John turned around to see two innocent eyes looking up at him questioningly.

"Um, sounds like Uncle Ronon might have a good idea after all," John muttered. "Don't worry; if any boys other than your uncles start talking to you, you come tell me right away, okay?" John said.

"Okay daddy," the little girl happily responded.

"Well," John sighed, sinking into the couch. "Guess that just leaves me here all alone while you're off having fun," he said dramatically, his face shifting into a sad puppy dog look.

"That's alright daddy, I figured that out too," Amanda said with a smirk that frighteningly reminded John of Rodney. Before he could ask her what she meant, the doorbell to their apartment rang out.

"I'll get it," Amanda cried, running to the door before John could catch her.

"Hello Amanda," Teyla smiled, greeting the little girl warmly. "Are you ready for our breakfast?"

"Sorry Auntie Teyla," Amanda responded with a dramatic sigh, similar to the one John had given moments earlier. "But I have to go for lessons with Auntie Lizzie and Uncle Ronon," the little girl explained as Ronon walked into view. "There's Uncle Ronon now, I'm sure daddy can go with you though, after all, I wouldn't want daddy to be all be himself all day." She finished with a smirk, grabbing the Satedan's hand and skipping merrily down the hall.

"Amanda Nelea Sheppard!" John called out down the hall with Teyla bit back a giggle, slightly annoyed and having been set up by a kindergartener while secretly pleased at the chance to spend the morning with his other favourite lady.

Ronon and Amanda's laughter ringing down the halls was their only response.

Sighing slightly at the out maneuver, John turned and held out his arm to the woman beside him. "Would you care to join a poor, abandoned man for breakfast this morning?"

Laughing at his antics, Teyla responded with a smile "I would love to John," as she linked her arm through his, allowing him to place a soft kiss on her forehead.

All in all today was shaping up to be a very good day.

A.N. Can you believe it? That's the end. Thanks to all who made comments, said encouragements, or simply stuck with me through the story. You guys are awesome!


End file.
